Immortal
by Even.The.Stars.Refuse.To.Shine
Summary: Rebecca Ford knows that love and logic don't mix. It just doesn't work that way. Once you love someone, it's impossible think any different about them, no matter what happens. So when she falls in love with a vampire, what will she do? David x OC.
1. The beginning

**Author's note: Just in case you were wondering, I DID re-do this chapter, because I thought that I should make you guys more aware of Rebecca's past, and why she is so unwilling to trust David. I hope you prefer this one :) Oh yeah, Star isn't going to be David's girlfriend in this story, even though that's fairly obvious anyway.**

**I hope you like it! Please review :)**

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><p><em>"Suffering, once accepted, loses its edge, for the terror of it lessens, and what remains is generally far more manageable than we had imagined."<em>

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><p>The beginning of my life was never easy. I grew up in one of the roughest places in London, England, and was raised by a mother who didn't care much for me. My father, I'd heard, hadn't treated her very well while he was around – he left before I was born. This resulted in her being left jobless, with the responsibility of single-handedly raising a baby. So she could never do the things any other woman her age could – maybe this was why she resented me so much. As far as she was concerned, I was just another problem that was brought around when my dad left. I knew she still loved him, though, even after everything he'd put her through. I spent my earlier days trying figure out why she didn't love me the same way. The reason I eventually came up with – I wasn't a good enough child for her. And yet I'd tried the best I could in the shabby school that was more of a home to me than anywhere else, and I did whatever I could to make her love me like she'd loved my father. I was unsuccessful.<p>

As soon as I turned ten, I was pulled out of school so I could make up for my mother's unemployment by working five days a week, which earned us a measly income of two pounds a day. Most of the money went towards my mother's cigarettes and, as I found out later, the stash of drugs she'd kept hidden from me in the kitchen cupboard.

At the age of twelve, I knew that my father had done the right thing by running away. The night after my unacknowledged birthday, I packed my bags and headed off, to where, I wasn't sure. I had few possessions – toothbrush, a photo of my mother and father while they were together, and the small sum of money I'd been able to scrounge from the house before I left.

I lived in the streets for what seemed like an eternity to me, finding reasons for living in the hope that, one day, I would be able to find something more than this. Maybe I could adopt, be the mother that I never had. Or perhaps I could find a hidden talent somewhere inside of me that I never realized I'd had, and become rich and famous for it.

The first time I could save up enough money, I went to the local music store and bought a guitar. I played on the streets, making more money than I ever did before, and eventually I found other kids who, like me, had ran away from home. Many of them disappeared without a goodbye, for reasons I did not know. I only assumed they left for the same reason my father did. But, as it had done for the past twelve years of my life, faith kept me going. Faith that someday I'd find something worth living for.

My lucky break came a year later. A family, visiting England for the first time, saw me playing in the streets one day, and made it their responsibility to look after me. I didn't trust them, at first – I'd never been able to trust anyone my entire life, but in the end, I realized I'd found something worth believing in.

So they took me back to America, where we lived in sunny phoenix for the next three years of my life. But both worlds had taken their toll on me – my old, dark existence had gifted me with determination and strength, and a sarcastic humour that even Michael, my new older brother couldn't beat. And my new life had given me things I couldn't have possibly dreamed of before – love, laughter, and a sense of meaning in everything I did.

Nobody would have guessed that I had come from such a dark background, although they did ask when they heard the slight English accent in my voice. It was a relief I didn't deserve – no one ever spoke about my past, and neither did I. It was only my family and the closest of my friends that knew what I'd been through.

But then, after a divorce between my new mother Lucy and her husband, we moved to Santa Carla. Michael, Sam, and I weren't pleased about leaving our sunny world, but I figured that as long as I wasn't going back to England then I should be grateful. But I wasn't.

So here I was, after everything that had happened. Santa Carla's sunlit beaches streamed past the windows of the car as we headed to my adoptive grandpa's house. My head was leaning out the window, a tangle of messy copper hair that was being beaten in the wind. A large sign caught my eye, announcing that we had arrived in Santa Carla. Scrawled on the back of it, in untidy graffiti, was a sentence that read:

_MURDER CAPITAL OF THE WORLD. _

I stared at it, unsure whether to be afraid or not. Sam was certainly afraid, gazing at the note with wide eyes. But I'd known much worse than living in this place, murder capital of the world or not. And anyway – it's not like I was planning on staying long.

Wind-chimes tinkled in the breeze as we pulled into Grandpa's driveway. I hauled my luggage out of the car, along with the small bag of belongings that I'd taken when I'd run away at twelve, and started dragging everything towards the house.

I saw Lucy already there, bending over someone lying down outside the garage. It was Grandpa. He wasn't moving.

I stayed by the car, watching as Michael and Sam slowly made their way over to him.

"He looks dead," noted Michael.

"If he's dead, can we go home?"

I laughed at Sam's hopeful expression, and wandered over to where they were all crowded. Grandpa suddenly sat up.

"I was playing dead! And from what I heard, doing a damn good job of it, too!"

Lucy laughed, and the worry lines on her forehead smoothed out. Trust Grandpa to play a stupid trick on her like that. No doubt Lucy almost had a heart attack.

We each made our way inside, each of us dragging various items of luggage. Michael and Sam raced up the stairs, bickering over which room would be theirs . . . I trudged after them slowly. I picked the smallest room – it was also the cosiest – while Michael and Sam were still arguing over the largest one.

I unpacked all my clothes into the empty drawers provided, and flopped down onto the mattress. All my other belongings lay scattered around the room. My guitar was propped up in one corner, my skateboard in another, both looking sorely out of place around the natural and refined furniture. My heart sank. Surely Santa Carla couldn't be that bad? I'd heard the boardwalk was alright – even if it was packed with a load of goons. Although I still seriously doubted it.

I sighed and buried myself deeper into the bed. Maybe this was all just a dream. Maybe, if I closed my eyes, I would wake up and realize that there was no Santa Carla after all. I truly hoped that was the case.

**You may have noticed I do random quotes at the beginning of some chapters. If I find one that I really like, and it suits the chapter, then it'll go in there somewhere. All rights go to their respectful owners :)**


	2. A day at the boardwalk

As I'd presumed, Santa Carla's boardwalk wasn't too great. And, unsurprisingly, most of the people there were lunatics, which made socializing a real pain in the ass. So all that coupled together meant that I had to hang out with my two adoptive brothers . . . which also sucked. Sam was all for checking out the comic store and Michael was dead-set on stalking some girl. Neither was preferable to me, but I guess either was better than looking like a complete loner. I followed Michael as he weaved in and out of the crowd. Although Sam was closer to my age (I was sixteen, the same as him), I thought Michael was cooler.

"Michael! Come on, she's not interested," I called to him when we were almost out of the entire park.

He ignored me.

I caught up to him just as we reached the exit. He was staring (without even trying to hide it) at the girl – the girl who just happened to have a boyfriend, by the look of it. There were four boys – or men, depending on which way you looked at it – on big, black motorcycles. The girl climbed onto the back of one of them, and hugged her arms around the boy's waist.

"Come on, she's ditched you, Mike. Let's go."

But Michael was openly glaring at them all. One of the boys, with peroxide blonde hair, smirked and winked at me. I ignored him, and instead punched Michael on the arm.

He looked round at me.

"What?"

"You haven't got a chance mate. Come on, let's get back. There's plenty more fish in the sea."

He didn't see it the same way, but grudgingly he followed me back into the boardwalk. I rolled my eyes. Boys, I thought, and shook my head as we went to find Sam in the comic store.

The next seven days were better . . . and worse. I found some people that weren't completely off their rocker to hang around with. Colleen and Rose, I discovered their names were. They weren't up to much, but they liked skating, like me. Maybe it wasn't entirely impossible to relate to these people, after all.

That was the 'better' part. The 'worse' part was that Michael was never in anymore, which meant I had to hang out with Sam when my new 'friends' weren't around. I saw him stalking the girl again, but this time I left him to his own business. If he got beat up by those boys, then that was his problem, not mine. I wasn't getting involved. Most of the reason why he wasn't in lately was because he was usually slept till five in the afternoon and was out all night. Figures. I sorely hoped that he wasn't turning into a Santa Carla madman like the rest of the people round here.

And he was getting real moody. But I suppose that didn't change much. I also found out that he was hanging out with the girl (Star, he told me when I asked) and her pals. I told him they were a bad influence, but, typical Michael, he ignored me.

And then it was two weeks after we'd moved that things started getting all strange. I was with Sam in his room, and for a reason unknown to me (I honestly don't understand boys) he had drawn a cross on the door. When I asked, he said he might be re-thinking his religious views.

"You're religious views?" I asked in disbelief.

He nodded, staring at the door with an almost fearful expression on his face.

And then I saw something that made me scream. A pair of feet were dangling just outside the window – Michael's feet. Sam jumped up and made a cross with his fingers. He showed it to the window.

"Michael!" I yelled.

Heaven knows, I thought he'd turned suicidal. Perhaps he really was under a bad influence.

"Becky, _get away!_" warned Sam as I approached the window.

"Are you crazy, he'll fall –"

But my voice faltered as I saw that Michael was not hanging outside the window: he was _floating _outside the window. In midair. With nothing holding onto him.

I gasped and ran to Sam's side. Michael was trying to knock on the window.

"Please!" he shouted. "Let me in!"

I deliberated for a moment and then cautiously took a step towards him.

"No! Stay back!" said Sam again.

He was dialling a number on the phone; I could see it was Lucy's.

"Hello?" he said, and then screamed as Michael knocked on the window again. I stood in the corner, unsure what to do. "Ahhh! Help! Michaels attacking me, he's attacking me! Ahhhh!"

"Please! I'm your brother," he called again.

I thought it was best not to tell Lucy that her son had suddenly developed the ability to fly. I grabbed the telephone from Sam's hand and threw it across the room. I vaguely heard Lucy's voice buzzing from the speakers.

"I'm your brother!" Michael's voice and face were desperate.

Sam looked like he was waging an internal war with himself. But eventually he ran over to the window and flung it open. Michael came tumbling in, almost knocking the desk over on his way, and fell to the floor in a crumpled heap.

"Thanks," he mumbled, clearly disoriented.

Sam backed away again, looking at me for help. Michael approached us, but we both stepped back. He paused and then walked out the door.

"What. The. Hell." I said.

And then we were hurriedly discussing explanations: radioactive contamination? Evil forces? Hallucinations? We left dealing with Lucy to Michael.

But none of them made sense. I decided I'd have to speak to someone about this. Either Star or her weirdo pals . . . neither of them seeming very pleasant.

"Right," I said. "Tomorrow we're going to the boardwalk, Sam. And we're going to figure out what the hell is wrong with Michael."

He agreed willingly, although I was under the impression that he was hiding something from me.

The next night I waited nervously by the boardwalk exit. They'd have to come out here eventually, I guessed. Sam had gone to the comic store – chickened out, I thought – because supposedly 'he had contacts'. I didn't believe him.

People passed me without paying any attention. None of them were the people I hoped for. Well, half-hoped for. I wasn't exactly looking forward to it.

And then, about two hours later, when I was close to giving up, one of them walked past. The peroxide blonde.

"Wait! You! The guy with the blonde mullet!" I called.

Surprisingly, he turned round. He stared at me, and then smirked. I could see the wheels turning in his eyes. He was trying to decide what to think of me – and lucky for me, I didn't care too much for what he thought of me.

"Yes?" he asked snidely. And then his expression changed. His smirk grew more pronounced. "You're Michael's sister."

It wasn't a question, but a statement.

I stared back defiantly, not bothering to mention that I wasn't technically his sister. "So what if I am?"

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter,"

"Yes it does, because I want to know just what it is you've done to him. And you're going to tell me!"

He didn't seem concerned about my threat. Probably because he could take me down anytime he wanted to . . . but still.

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"No I'm not. I'm David by the way," he offered his hand sarcastically, not expecting me to take it.

I glared at him, putting as much hate into it as possible. He still didn't seem phased. He came right over to me, until we were less than a foot away. He looked at me curiously. He scanned right down my body, like someone would if they were checking out a piece of furniture for their house. Not like I was a person at all. Just something that peaked his interest slightly. And then he turned the conversation in a different direction.

"So . . . how's Santa Carla for you?" he asked, as if he was enjoying a private joke.

"Piss off, 'David'." I snarled. I wasn't taking anything but answers from this guy.

"You're choice," he said and started to walk away.

"Wait! I didn't mean that. I meant . . . shut up about how much I like it here and tell me what's happened to Michael."

He stopped, but didn't look like he was about to reveal anything . . . yet.

"I will if you go out with me," he said.

That surprised me. And angered me. He didn't say it with feeling . . . he said it like I was merely a toy that he wanted to play with. I assumed that he messed around with girls like this every night, and then ditched them the next day. He seemed like that sort of person . . . he was quite good looking, after all. A lot of girls would jump at the chance to 'go out' with him. Not me, though. I wasn't looking for a one-night-stand.

"Go to hell," I hissed. I wasn't liking this guy one bit.

That seemed to piss him off. He wasn't used to getting rejected by girls. That should teach him.

"Not until you say you'll come with me," again, there was no emotion in his voice.

It wasn't like he _really _wanted me to go with him. It was like I was something he could show off to his buddies. And that lost him another few cool points on my list.

"Which I won't," I shot back.

"Oh, come on. You know you want to. Everyone's out . . . we'll be alone . . .?" he trailed off into a question, leaving the offer hanging in the air.

I tried to look like I wasn't mega-pissed off, but the fact that my hands were balled into tight fists kind of gave it away. I was _not _going to let this guy play with me like some sort of toy.

I tried to look like I was actually thinking about accepting the offer. His eyes lit up coldly.

I gave him an appraising look. He stared back in a way that made me think he was trying to look innocent. But I knew better. It was easy for me to see his dark side. It was only later that I realized just how far that way he'd gone.

"D'you like what you see?" he asked, smirking.

I tried to keep my face expressionless – like I wasn't interested. "I've seen better," was all I said.

I saw his face drop slightly. For a self-deemed 'badass' he wasn't very good at living up to the reputation. But he composed himself quickly. He sensed his slip-up as soon as I did.

"Well, you won't see much better around this place,"

"Already have." I lied.

He opened his mouth to say something, but at the same moment Michael came round the corner. He seemed unaware of the tension in the air.

"What are you doing?" he asked, eyeing David with stubborn dislike.

"Nothing," I replied. "Just . . . chatting."

"Let's go," he said, grabbing my wrist and dragging me away from David.

I didn't mind. The guy creeped me out.

"So . . . you still mad at him 'cause his pal stole the girl?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't," I muttered sarcastically. "It was blatantly obvious that you had a major crush on her. Or still do. You were literally seething when she got on his bike and –"

"Could you do me a favour?" he asked, his voice turning dark.

"Sure."

"Shut up."

"Anything but that."

He hissed in frustration. Ah, how my annoyingness pissed him off. And then I realized that I hadn't got my answers. I looked up at Michael. Maybe he wasn't angry at David because of Star . . . perhaps it was for another reason entirely.

And right then I was sure that David had done something to Michael.


	3. Are you up for a ride?

There were three reasons why I went looking for David the next night.

Reason one: I had to find out what happened to Michael.

Reason two: He was possibly the only one who could tell me that.

And reason three: I was an idiot.

If I was honest with myself, I would have said that it was within the realm of possibility to avoid David and still help Michael. If I was dishonest with myself – which I was – then I would have said that the only way to find answers was to find David. Even so – I'm a terrible liar. All the way to the boardwalk I had to keep repeating over and over in my mind that I was doing the right thing, and resist turning back and going home more than once. Even now I'm not sure _why _I didn't just go home and try to figure it out myself. But as I said before; I was an idiot.

So, as you can probably guess, I went to the boardwalk to look for David.

Not only that, but I dressed up. Weird, I know, considering the guy was a psychopath, but life goes on. I was even wearing makeup – I was a pretty average-looking girl, all things considered, though I would never say I was beautiful. But I needed to look my best for tonight. I was sure David was going to need some convincing, but nevertheless, there were some lines I wouldn't cross.

I waited by the entrance this time; I'd arrived earlier on purpose, so maybe this time I didn't have to wait hours before I could speak to him. Or argue with him. Whichever.

It didn't take that long for him to turn up. But this time he wasn't alone; he had all his psychopath buddies with him on their bikes, so I was already scowling by the time he'd seen me. He even had the nerve to find it _funny. _But that didn't wipe the grimace off my face.

"Rebecca!" he called to me in faked surprise. "Imagine seeing you here. Looking for someone?"

"Yeah, I am. This little prick with a mullet. Blonde. A bit dim-witted. Dresses in black. Have you seen him?"

His psychopath buddies laughed.

"I don't think I have, no. Sorry."

"Shame," I said sarcastically.

And then he clapped a hand to his forehead as if he'd just remembered something important. "I haven't introduced you, have I?" he looked between me and his pals. I noticed Star was there, too. "Well," he carried on in his faked surprised tone, "guys, this is my friend, Rebecca. Rebecca, meet Marko, Paul and Dwayne."

"Hi," I said. "But David, I think the word 'friends' requires mutual feelings."

Again, his loser pals laughed.

By the look on his face, I seemed to already be pissing him off. Ah, sweet success. He didn't like being mocked in front of his cronies. They might think he wasn't as badass as he put on . . .

"What do you want?" he asked. His voice had turned sharp.

"Someone's in a mood today."

"What do you want?" he repeated in the same icy tone.

"I want to speak to you about Michael."

He didn't look surprised. "Are you going to go out with me, then?"

"Maybe. It depends how you define 'go out with'."

His trademark smirk appeared. But there was spite in his eyes . . . what I then mistook for self-confidence.

"Let's go, then. Are you up for a ride?" he revved his bike.

I tried not to grimace. I'd never been a big fan of motorcycles. But hey-ho, that's the way life goes.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Where do you want to go?"

Wow. He was offering to _let me choose. _That's something you don't see everyday. I thought he was going to force me to go to a strip club. His buddies all eyed me curiously. Star merely looked worried. I wondered what that was about.

"Anywhere," I said stupidly.

Gah, I wanted to smack myself around the head. But that probably wouldn't look cool. Not that they could really talk.

He raised his eyebrows. "Anywhere?"

"I mean, anywhere that's normal. If you can handle that," I added sarcastically.

"Normal . . ." he deliberated for a moment. "I think I can manage that."

"Good,"

I wasn't sure what to do next. He sat there on his motorcycle, waiting for me to do something. I just stood there.

"Are you coming or what? Get on the bike."

I rushed forward, trying to look like I hadn't just been really stupid. Awkwardly I lifted one leg over the bike until I was sat behind him. I grudgingly wrapped my arms around his waist.

"We'll see you later, then?" said one of his pals, giving him a meaningful look.

"Sure," I could hear the smile in his voice.

He revved the engine, and slowly let go of the clutch. We were off like a bullet down the dark tarmac road. I realized too late that I wasn't wearing a helmet, and locked my arms around David in an unbreakable grip. I hoped he didn't take that the wrong way. I narrowed my eyes to slits as the streets flew by. I could see that we were travelling in a circle around the boardwalk. Phew, I thought. At least we were staying in town.

After what I estimated was about ten minutes of riding, we started to slow down. But I was still afraid to check the speedometer, just in case I started screaming and fell off the bike. No doubt he'd find it hilarious if he had to scrape me off the asphalt with a spade.

We stopped right outside a fancy-looking restaurant. Uh-oh. I was already starting to regret my decision of coming with him. I headed to the shabbier-looking café next to it as soon as I'd stumbled off the bike, but he grabbed my arm and steered me back to the restaurant.

"Are you sure you'll be able to afford that? I don't mind going to the café . . ."

He didn't answer, but instead forced me through the doors of the restaurant. God, this guy really was a psychopath. He walked straight up to the hostess and said:

"A table for two,"

Honestly, a 'please' here and there couldn't hurt.

"And then," he murmured in my ear, "we'll go back to my place."

I didn't like the sound of that. But if he tried to make me go anywhere other than the boardwalk after this then I'd walk back. There was no way I was going to 'go back to his place' . . . urgh. I shuddered.

The hostess brought us through a doorway and to a nice little table away from everyone else. Good thing, too. I was sure that if people heard us talking about flying madmen trying to get in through my window then there'd be a SWAT team breaking down the door any minute.

"So . . ." I said, trying to sound casual, but failing. "What have you done to Michael?"  
>"I don't know what's wrong with Michael,"<p>

I leaned in towards him, trying not to get pissed off. It didn't seem to be working. "So you dragged me here for a date, and then you won't even keep your side of the bargain! You filthy –"

"So this is a date, now?"

I opened my mouth, and then I realized he was trying to sidetrack me. "It's anything but a date! Now stop trying to change the subject. _What's the matter with Michael?_"

"What _is _the matter with Michael?"

I swear I was about to hit this guy in a minute.

"Stop answering my questions with questions!" I hissed.

"Then ask the question properly."  
>I had to grab my right wrist with my left hand to stop myself from breaking his nose. David was <em>so <em>going to pay for this . . .

I exhaled slowly. "What the fucking hell have you done to Michael?"

He smiled and shook his head. It took every ounce of self-control I possessed to stop myself from wiping that smirk _right _off his face.

"I want you to ask me nicely. Say 'please'."

I spoke through gritted teeth: "David, could you pretty please with a cherry on top tell me what you have done to Michael?"

I decided sarcasm was better than complete obedience.

He leaned in carefully. "He's one of us."

I hoped the 'us' didn't include me. I honestly didn't want to go flying around people's windows in the middle of the night.

"And," I asked dryly, "what exactly are you?"

He sat up straighter suddenly. "Oh, look, here's the waiter." He said.

I turned round to scowl at the waiter, who looked taken aback by my hostility. I didn't care right then – I was _this _close to punching somebody's lights out.

I didn't wait for him to say anything. "I'll have the vegetarian Spaghetti Bolognese, please, and some water."

For some reason, David seemed to find this extraordinarily funny. I glared at him. I swear, if I scowled much more then my face would be stuck like that permanently.

"I'll have the . . . _non-vegetarian _Spaghetti Bolognese. And also some water."

Still no please. The waiter walked off, scribbling on his notepad.

"You're a vegetarian?" David laughed.

My voice was huffy. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Have you got a problem with that?"

"Not yet."

What's that supposed to mean? I decided it didn't matter.

"Now, could you _please _answer my previous question?"

"I did," he replied.

"No you –"

"If you want me to mention Michael at all tonight then don't ask me that question again."

I clamped my mouth shut – but it almost killed me to restrain from hurling insults at him. I could think of some pretty good ones, too. Shame . . .

So we sat in silence for the next twenty minutes, which had me bored stiff. He studied me for almost the whole of that time, carefully watching my face and eyes. I didn't return his stare. I glared out the window, mentally screaming all sorts of abuse at him. And then, finally, he broke the silence:

"Would _you _like to become one of us?" he had a fanatical gleam in his eyes that was solid evidence towards my psychopath theory.  
>"No, I would not like to be a madman. But I didn't realize that was optional."<p>

His eyes flashed dangerously. "Can you have a conversation like a normal person or not?" he asked bitterly.

"Who's definition of 'normal' are we talking about?"

I could tell he was getting pretty fed up with my snide manner. Oh well. What goes around comes around.

His fists gripped the edge of the table. "If I were you I'd stop that _right now._ I'm about to lose my temper with you . . ." his voice was filled with suppressed anger.

I was honestly shocked. He spoke to me rather like he had when he first asked me out. Like I wasn't worthy of him or something. Like I was an animal.

But that made me even less cautious. "I could say the same to you,"

Then, just as he was about to snap, the waiter came hurrying into the room carrying two plates and drinks.

I could feel David's sudden fury diffuse quickly, and I was relieved.

The waiter set the food on the table without a word, and shuffled off out of the room. I looked down at my plate. Hm . . . the food didn't look that bad. And, boy, was I hungry!

I tried to act dignified as I ate, but it's hard to do so when you're trying to shovel it in your mouth as fast as possible. Then I realized David was watching me and slowed down fast. I sipped my water gently, noticing that David hadn't touched his meal.

"Hungry?" he asked, mockery slightly detectable in his voice.

"Not really," I lied, setting my knife and fork neatly on the side of the plate. There was still a lot of food left, but I ignored my protesting stomach.

"Yes you are."

"No, I'm not." I said firmly.

When I looked at him, I discovered that he was amused. He was smirking slightly. This didn't annoy me as much as it normally would have.

"You haven't eaten _anything_," I said, trying to divert attention from myself.

He shrugged. "I wasn't really hungry,"

"Sure you weren't,"

He ignored me.

When the waiter came again to deliver the bill, I was shocked to realize that we hadn't spoken in over half an hour. I was also angry. That was twice that he'd avoided telling me about Michael . . . or at least, that was twice that he'd avoided giving me a proper answer. I had to get it out of him somehow.

I looked at the bill. Sixty dollars for two Spaghetti Bolognese . . . yeesh, this place was expensive. But David slipped a wad of cash into the bill and handed it back to the waiter. In a way, I felt kind of guilty, despite the fact that David was infuriating and loathsome and that I hated his guts. But I would never pay that much for a meal. Especially if it was with someone that was only interested in prying information out of me. I appreciated his efforts, but it didn't mean I _liked _him. God no . . . he'd have to go a _long _way to make me feel anything similar towards him. Hell, I didn't even know if it was possible for me to like him.

"Let's go," I mumbled, and we both stood up.

Once we were back to the bike, I seated myself behind him and, like before, wrapped my arms around him. It took us less time to get back than it did last time. And, thank heavens; he didn't 'take me back to his place' after all. But he seemed to be deliberating whether to or not when we'd stopped outside the boardwalk.

I hopped off the bike, and turned to face him.

"You didn't tell me about Michael. You promised you would."

"Maybe next time," he smirked.

"Right," I said sarcastically. As if there'd even be a next time. "Well, I won't bother myself with you again, then, if you can't even keep your half of the deal. Goodbye." I said. "And I can walk myself home, too."

"You're going to give up that easily?" he asked, his voice mocking me, taunting me.

I glared at him. "Maybe I will,"

He shrugged, and revved the motorcycle engine. In a second he'd loosened his grip on the clutch and was speeding away from me down the dark street.

Jerk, I thought, and turned away.


	4. Weakness

**Another short chapter . . . sorry! But I only wrote this one so it made it easier to understand David's feelings towards Becky. Hope you like it! ;)**

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><p><em>"It is better to lose your pride with someone you love rather than to lose that someone you love with your useless pride."<em>

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><p>David strolled into the sunken hotel with a feeling of mixed regret and shame stirring inside of him. He hadn't killed her. He hadn't killed her even though she'd been right there in front of him, even though he'd promised his brothers that he would. But he knew what to say to them.<p>

"Nice meal?" Paul asked jokingly from the couch.

David ignored him – he saw the double meaning in Paul's words.

"What, didn't you kill her?" asked Marko in disbelief.

"No." he said the word candidly, putting a sharp note in his voice so that they knew nothing would change his mind.

"Gone soft?" spoke Dwayne's voice as he entered the room.

A low hiss escaped David's lips. He would not be made a fool of, whether Dwayne's words were meant harshly or otherwise.

"I want to turn her."

They all looked vaguely surprised.

"Why her?" asked Paul. "She's nothing special."

"She'd be useful. Michael would find it hard to refuse joining us if she did."

"She wouldn't do it. She'd say no, just like her brother."

"I think I can persuade her." David lied.

"Or trick her, like you did with Michael." Dwayne interjected. "I'm not on about getting her to drink the blood. I'm talking about getting her to make her first kill."

"It won't be too hard." Another lie.

"Whatever, man."

David sat there in silence. He knew Dwayne was right – Rebecca would never kill anything, let alone another mortal. In the little time they'd spent together, he'd learnt that much about her.

"What if Max doesn't want her with us?" Paul asked suddenly.

"I changed _you _without asking him, and I can do it again. Besides," he added quietly, "If he wants to turn the rest of them, then it's just as well that she joins, too. They're her family."

Dwayne snorted. "Since when did you care about families? You didn't mind when you took Laddie. And besides, I thought they weren't even related?"

"Since never. I was just telling you the facts."

"Yeah, yeah, we all get it. You don't have it in you to kill the mortal," sneered Dwayne.

David growled and launched himself across the room. He reached Dwayne in a millisecond, and grabbed him by the collar.

His voice was a snarl when it came from his mouth. "I've killed a hundred times more than you have, don't forget that. And who was the one who was afraid to make his first kill? You, Dwayne, you were afraid. _Afraid _to snuff out a mere mortal's life. _Afraid _of your own nature. So," he growled, ever so quiet. "If I were you, in future I'd think about who I were talking to about whether I have the nerve to kill or not. Because, trust me," he shoved Dwayne back and let him go. He fell to the floor. "You wouldn't want to be around if I heard you saying that again."

A heavy silence settled over the room. David didn't bother checking to see if Dwayne was about to attack as he sauntered over to the couch, back turned– the threat in his words was real enough. He wasn't a coward. He'd proved that when he'd made his first kill without hesitation, even though he knew that there was no turning back. Dwayne didn't have such courage. He was afraid.

As David rested on the soft, springy cushions, he pondered over whether to kill Rebecca or not. His brothers would prefer that. He knew they would. It could easily have been an accident – it wasn't hard to unintentionally kill a human when the bloodlust found you. And David didn't think of taking a mortal's life as murder; it was his way of life, as natural as breathing, and he'd never thought twice about it. Not once. Not until now, at least. He'd never sat there juggling the fate of a miserable human in his hands, unsure of what to do, unsure of whether to just let nature have its way or to prevent what should have happened the first time he'd met her. Should he kill her? Should he turn her? Or should he just . . . let her live?

No, the last option was out. He couldn't do that, never. He wasn't going to be afraid like Dwayne was. He wasn't going to show weakness.

A small smile appeared on his lips as he considered. Right now, he thought, he had the power of death. It was up to him whether or not someone lived or died. He was a God. He'd thought that at the beginning, when he'd made his first kill. He could remember, when his teeth had sunk into the mortal's delicious bloody flesh, thinking those exact words. _I'm a God. _

And he had the choice again, but unlike the hundreds of times before, he was uncertain of what to do. It had never been a hard decision previously. He'd never blinked an eye when he thought of the lives he had taken. Never.

But now, for the first time ever, he doubted his own strength.

He doubted whether he was able to kill Rebecca Ford.


	5. He wants your blood

David stalked over to me with a tight smile plastered on his face. It was the kind of smile you would see on someone that was saying sorry but didn't actually mean a word of it. I couldn't remember how I'd come to be here with him – the last thing I could recall was plopping onto my mattress after mine and David's alleged 'date'. Weird. But according to my eyes and ears, we were standing on Santa Carla's beach, completely alone, with the stars twinkling high above us in the velvety black sky.

I glared at David – my automatic reaction whenever I saw him.

But he didn't seem to mind. He just carried on walking slowly over to me, making each step with careful precision, never missing a beat.

"What do you want?" My tone was harsh. I'd begun to wonder if he'd snuck me out of my room in the middle of the night – I didn't put it past him to kidnap me.

David acted as if I hadn't said anything. He was about ten paces from me now, still strolling towards me with his feet moving silently on the sand. His face looked different from last time I saw it – the moon bleached everything shades of black and white, and its light was coming from an angle that distorted his features into a dark and sinister expression.

He was also wearing the same clothes he had on the first time I saw him, and, as always, he sported his long black coat that seemed a favourite of his. But just as I noticed his clothes, I observed that my own attire consisted of a blue shirt and dark high-waist jeans. I'd never seen either item in my life. I greatly hoped that he hadn't been the one to dress me in them, both for his sake and my own.

"What do you want?" I repeated, folding my arms over my chest.

The answer came from a voice other than the one I'd been expecting: "He wants your blood,"

The words were spoken in a hushed whisper, but they reverberated inside my skull as if they'd been shouted. I whipped my head round. Standing the same distance away from me as David, but in the opposite direction, was a young woman with dark curly hair to her shoulders. I knew who it was immediately.

"Star," I murmured the name that was running through my mind.

She didn't respond to my acknowledgement, but instead looked at me in a way that sent shivers down my spine. Her features were arranged into an expression of profound sorrow, and her face was sparkling with ancient tears of the past. And although she appeared to be just slightly older than me, her dark brown eyes echoed a history that was beyond my comprehension, a history that I automatically shied away from and rejected. As I looked closer, I realized that her tears were not clear, but instead crimson. The exact blood-red colour of the elegant floor-length gown she was wearing.

"What do you mean he wants my blood?" I asked, bewildered.

This whole thing was starting to freak me out – it isn't everyday you have your own personal stalker and his pal kidnap you and take you to a beach where they cry blood. And it certainly isn't everyday when you find out that your stalker might just be a cannibal.

Again, Star didn't say anything. But as I stared at her in complete and utter confusion, a feeling started to creep from her that some sixth sense of mine picked up – pity. She pitied me.

I began turn back around. "David –"

I choked back a scream, eyes bugging in fright.

David was standing no more than two feet in front of me, staring intently at what would have been the back of my head had I not turned round. My heart was beating furiously. The reason I was so surprised was because I had not heard the movement of his passage, and didn't expect him to be standing right in front of me.

"What the –"

My voice faltered. David's face was changing. But it was not only his face that was transforming; his usual cool and calm facade was also slipping, giving way to a fiercer and more volatile nature that lurked beneath the surface. He suddenly looked scarier than I'd ever seen him before, and the dark sentiments emanating from him made me want to run in the opposite direction. Only I couldn't run. My legs were glued together in an unbreakable hold, as was the rest of my body.

But it wasn't fear or surprise that kept me paralyzed. His eyes – now golden – burned into mine, piercing my soul and setting me on fire, keeping me a prisoner in the body that was rightfully mine. No matter how hard I tried to look away, I found I couldn't. His eyes were everywhere all at once, boring into me and laying out all my darkest and most deepest secrets for the world to see and remember. It felt like he was tearing away everything that made me who I was, every attribute and quality at a time for him to examine them at his own leisure, regardless of my mental pleas for release. I tried to hold him off, to stop him from ripping me apart piece by piece, a reassuring reminder that my willpower and determination was still there within me.

But I was slipping away.

I found I couldn't hold on to anything, like I was fading away into nothingness. A silent scream escaped from my mouth. All I could see was those eyes – those terrible eyes – laughing in silent mirth as I died away.

The last thing I heard was Star's voice say: "It's not too late,"

My scream rang in my ears as I forced my eyes open. I was in my room. There was no David or Star. I was completely alone.

My laboured breathing gradually steadied as I realized that I'd been dreaming. But I didn't have time to register much else, for at that moment my door swung open revealing a dark silhouette.

"Becky! Becky!" Sam's voice was full of fear as he scanned the room frantically.

"It's nothing! It was just a dream . . . I'm fine."I managed through my chattering teeth.

The eyes were still burned into my mind. Those terrible, golden eyes. I was surprised I could see anything; it felt like the retinas at the back of my eyes had been scorched out.

Sam stopped his searching. ". . . What? You mean no one's attacking you?"

"No. Should there be?"

I peered at Sam curiously, my mind making a feeble attempt to divert my attention from the dream. Was he . . .? Was he wearing a string of _garlic _around his neck?

"What are you wearing?" I asked.

I noticed he had garlic held in his hand, too; he was brandishing it like a weapon in front of him.

"Oh . . ." he seemed awkward. But then I would be too if I was caught wearing a necklace of garlic to bed. "It's just to drive away the fever."

"What fever?"

"Never mind,"

And he rushed out of the room, shutting the door quickly behind him. Yeesh, this was just getting weirder and weirder. I shook my head, trying to clear it of all disturbing thoughts. My attempt was in vain; I still couldn't forget those eyes . . .

I checked the clock, seeing if it was an acceptable time to get up. There was no way I'd be able to get back to sleep after what had just gone on in my head. It read _6:45. _

I hopped out of my bed and rummaged around in the dark, looking for some clothes to wear for today. I had to do something to distract myself. The boardwalk opened at nine . . . so if I could only find something to do for the next two hours, then I could go there and find something to keep my mind off things as soon as it opened.

I wondered if Michael would drop me off at the boardwalk, or whether I'd have to walk. No . . . I couldn't walk. It would take too long. And there would be enough free space in my mind to ponder over things, which is exactly what I didn't want to be able to do.

I passed the time of departure by getting ready – I got dressed into jeans and a comfortable black hoodie, brushed my hair and cleaned my teeth, tidied my room and even went to the trouble of cleaning the bathroom just to sidetrack myself.

I was ready with fifteen minutes to spare, so I went to ask – or beg, depending on how things turned out – if Michael would take me to the boardwalk. No doubt he'd be in a bad mood if I disturbed him a full ten hours before his normal wake-up time, but I had no choice.

As it turns out, I didn't have to disturb him. His room was empty. I even checked under the bed just to make sure he hadn't heard me come in and hidden.

Strange. I would never have thought he'd wake up this early for anything. But right now I didn't have time for wondering _why _he was up so early on in the morning. I needed my distraction. I couldn't walk to the boardwalk – that would take too long; I couldn't get Michael to take me – he'd disappeared (at the most untimely moment he could've chosen, I might add).

There were no options left. Or . . . were there?

I thought of Michael's bike in the garage. Surely he wouldn't mind if I borrowed it for the day? I didn't have a license, but I'd ridden one plenty of times before, even if it was years ago. I would even overlook my aversion to bikes if it meant I could get away for the day.

So I decided that there was only one thing I could do.

No one woke as I tiptoed down the stairs and out the front door, or even as I kick-started Michael's bike and flew off down the murky street. I relished the task of concentrating on riding – I was right; I didn't have time to spare for any other thoughts as I soared across town.

It was ten minutes before I reached the boardwalk. There were already people filing in through the entrance, talking and laughing with their friends. I tried to walk among them, acting as if I belonged there. I still had the intention of leaving Santa Carla as soon as the opportunity arrived – I didn't have time to deal with psychotic boys and flying brothers, especially when those psychotic boys appear in your dreams and apparently want to drink your blood.

But pretending to fit in was hard for me. I wasn't relaxed and easy-going like everyone else there. I flinched at every loud sound and was constantly looking behind me, even though that gained me weird looks from passers-by. That dream had really unnerved me – not that I was really surprised. It would have freaked out any normal person. Although, I wasn't entirely sure there _was _anyone normal in this place . . .

But it didn't matter whether the people were normal or not – they gave me my distractions. So I people-watched away my day, noticing how different people's reactions were to the many rides in the boardwalk. Like how someone was literally screaming their head off when they went on the biggest rollercoaster in the park and how another was completely apathetic.

The sun set at about six 'o' clock, attracting even more people to the boardwalk's delights. I wandered around the place, looking for any signs of people I knew – new friends or Michael and Sam, I wasn't really bothered which. I just needed to talk to someone; my head was starting to find space for disturbing thoughts, which worried me.

It was about the same time that I started getting anxious that I decided I should be returning Michael's bike back to its proper home. I wandered back to where the bike was parked along the side of the road, carefully weaving in and out of the crowd with my hood up and my hands in my pockets.

It was around about that time that I realized the boardwalk might not have been the best place to visit if I wanted to avoid thinking of my nightmare. I heard the hollers and yells before I saw the blinding lights of four motorcycles pull up not fifteen yards from where I stood, paralyzed with fear.

When I finally managed to unfreeze my legs, I stumbled clumsily over to where my bike was supposed to be, but stopped in my tracks when I saw that it wasn't there. I heard the roar of the bike engines cut off, and laughter as a very familiar group of people approached me.

_Oh, shit, _was all I could think.

"Becca! Is that you?" the all-too-recognizable voice turned my blood ice-cold.

I didn't turn around, but instead stood there in the hope that they might just leave me alone. I didn't know what I was going to say to Michael about the bike; hell, right now I didn't even _care. _Not when I had four psychopaths following me. Was it pure coincidence that as soon as I started to leave, they arrived just in time to delay my departure? Were they even more insane than I originally thought?

But I didn't want to look afraid. I turned round, prepared for the worst, prepared to meet those terrible golden eyes . . . but they never came.

Of course, David was there alright – how could I have mistaken his voice? – but when I looked into his face, his eyes were the same cerulean blue that they'd always been (excluding my dream).

Relief washed over me – I was almost _glad _to see him now, just to rid that horrible picture from my mind. And I'd never, _never _in all the time that I'd known him been delighted to see him, or even able to imagine being delighted to see him. Not that I'd ever admit that, of course.

"Aren't you bored of stalking me by now? Don't you have anything better to do?" was the first thing that came out my mouth.

His trademark smirk appeared on his face. "I'm not stalking you."

"Sure you aren't,"

He then said: "So, you're leaving now?"

"Yes, it's too bad you didn't get here any sooner. Maybe you could have enlightened me on your psychopathic ways."

Ah, sarcasm. My best friend.

"We still have time for a little chat though, I think."

"Sorry, no can do." I heaved a huge, theatrical sigh, which made his friends snicker.

Then David peered around me as if he'd just noticed something. There was an amused light to his eyes that told me he was enjoying some sort of private joke. "Walking, are you?"

I pursed my lips, sorely hoping that he couldn't see me blushing. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Have you got a problem with that?"

"I think I have. It's dangerous to walk these streets at night – you might get hurt. There are lots of rough people around at this time."

I looked at him apprehensively. "The only rough people I'm worried about meeting on my way home are standing right in front of me, so I've already kind of messed that one up. I think I'll be just fine." I started to walk away.

"I can give you a ride, if you want." He called.

"No thanks, I think I'll pass."

But he was persistent. "I'll tell you about Michael on the way home."

"I don't fall for the same thing twice."

Then one of his pals spoke up – the one with the dark hair. "David, come on. Stop wasting your time."

He gave him a meaningful look which I didn't understand. David's face distorted from calm to angry in a second, and I stepped back in surprise.

"I told you no," he half-growled.

"Whatever," Dark-hair said indifferently.

I took David's moment of distraction as an opportunity to escape, and starting backing slowly away down the street. But he wasn't about to let me go that easily. He held out his hand, palm facing upwards, and suddenly a pronounced smirk appeared on his lips.

"It's raining," he noted casually. "You'll get wet if you walk."

At that precise moment I felt a speck of water drop from the sky and onto my face. I screwed up my face in disgust. Did everything have to be to his advantage?

"I'll survive. It's only a little bit of water, after all."

And then, as if the weather was purposefully trying to ruin my day further, heavier drops splashed down from the clouds and onto the asphalt.

"It's your choice," he said, shrugging.

I stared at him with a scowl on my face. "I'll come, then."

The words were out of my mouth before I'd even consciously thought of them.

"Ok, then." he said.

He didn't seem surprised by my sudden acceptance of his offer; instead it looked as if he was trying not to laugh. My scowl deepened.

"Climb aboard," he announced, flashing his teeth at me and climbing onto his bike.

I skulked over to him and seated myself comfortably behind him, draping my arms around his waist. His buddies started to walk away.

"We're staying here. Don't be long, I'm hungry." Said the one with long blonde hair, laughing.

"No worries," he said, and kick started his bike.

And then we were hurtling down the road, with the wind and rain whipping at our faces. The icy water stung as it hit my bare skin, so I buried my face into David's back. Better him than me, I thought. But he didn't seem to mind the lashing rain. I could tell he was enjoying himself – whether the pleasure came from the speed or the fact that he'd managed to coax me into riding with him, I didn't know.

"So," I yelled through the roar of the wind, "what's up with Michael?"

He pretended he hadn't heard me, so I shouted it right into his ear next time. He still ignored me even though half-deaf person could have heard me. I gave up.

By the time we got back to the house, my legs were completely soaked. But the rest of me was pretty dry thanks to David.

He rode all the way up to the driveway, and then cut the engine. I stumbled shakily off the bike, my teeth chattering from the cold, and the skin on the back of my hands blue.

He followed me, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was soaking wet and was probably going to catch pneumonia. He walked me up to the door and looked at me. I stared back for a second, trying to force an unwilling 'thank you' to my lips.

"Thanks," I managed.

He smirked. "I guess I'll see you, then."

"Or not," I murmured under my breath so that he couldn't hear me.

I was about to open the door when it suddenly swing open with a bang. Michael was standing in the doorway with an enraged expression on his face, staring at David with such vicious hate that I cringed.

I started talking frantically. "It's okay Mike, I swear I'm not dating him . . ."

But I figured he was too angry to listen. He pushed past me and grabbed David by the collar. David didn't flinch or pull away, but instead looked Michael levelly in the eye.

"What's the matter, Michael?" he asked coolly, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"You – stay – away – from – her." Michael growled, shaking with barely suppressed fury. "Do you hear me? I don't want you to speak to her ever again, or even look at her again. If you do anything to her, I swear I'll hunt you down myself . . ."

Still David didn't recoil. "I'm not going to do anything to her. I was just taking her home."

"Michael!" I yelled, and grabbed the back of his coat – I wasn't going to let a fight break out on my doorstep. "Snap out of it, Mike!"

He did – barely. He let go of David and stepped back, still positively fuming.

"What on earth . . ." I wondered aloud.

But Michael still hadn't finished. "I'm not going to kill you, because I don't want my little sister to have to feel guilty because she encouraged you –"encouraged him? "But if you don't stay away from her, then I _will _hunt you down. D'you hear me?"

David didn't answer, but before Michael had the chance to do anything I pushed him back inside the house.

"Bye! And thanks," I managed to say to David before I slammed the door in his face.

"What the hell are you playing at?" I rounded on Michael.

"You stay away from him! It doesn't matter how long this has been going on, but it's going to stop _right now._"

"I'm not even going out with him; he just offered to take me home!"

"Are you listening? Stay away from him, or else I'll have to make you. You can't trust him, Becky."

"You can't make me do anything!"

Even though I wasn't overly keen on David, I wasn't going to let Michael boss me around. Hell, I would probably _try _to spend time with him, just so that I could prove Michael wrong.

"The hell you will!" he growled.

And then I did a very childish thing – I poked my tongue out at him and stormed off up the stairs before Lucy could come and see what all the shouting was about.

Michael couldn't tell me who I could and couldn't hang around with. Nobody could. That was my decision.

So, before I went to bed that night, I made a mental note to myself that I'd go to the boardwalk tomorrow – and look for the boy who I'd before deemed a complete and utter psychopath.


	6. Learning to trust

At the beginning of the next day, I headed down to the garage. An irate blush spread across my cheeks at the thought of Michael's stolen motorcycle. But, I thought, he deserved it.

I wandered past Grandpa's truck, moodily wondering how I could get it to look like the bike had been stolen from the house and not the boardwalk. As it turns out, I didn't need to. The bike was propped up against its usual spot on the far wall, as if no one had taken it out last night at all.

My mind starting running through all sorts of possibilities, but none of them fit. Did Michael realize I'd taken his bike and took it back when I wasn't paying attention? Or was all of last night just a part of my dream?

No, that couldn't be right; otherwise I'd have the date wrong. A day had definitely passed since I'd had my dream. How . . . weird. But as long as the bike was back, Michael couldn't have a go at me, which was all that mattered at that moment. Well . . . I guessed there was no harm in taking the bike out again . . . was there? Anyway, I didn't need to borrow it yet. I'd figured from previous experiences that David and the gang weren't morning-type people, so it would probably be better to go later. I'd have to find something to entertain me until it was time, I guess.

And so the rest of the day passed without much animation. As usual, Mike was in bed until about five in the afternoon, but I didn't mind. I asked Lucy if I could go to the boardwalk before he got up, so as not to raise any suspicion from him. Luckily – she let me go. It was about nine 'o' clock that I headed out to the garage to borrow Michael's bike again. It started up as easily as last time, and I was speeding off down the highway in an instant.

And although I got there much later that time, it took them longer to arrive than I'd bargained for. At about eleven, after many deliberations on whether or not just to pack up and head home, I caught sight of David and his pals – in a fight with three burly-looking men who seemed _extremely _pissed about something.

As usual, David was clad in black and wearing his favourite trench-coat, which made me smile – did he ever take it off?

But my attention was diverted immediately; the fight was more serious than I'd previously thought. One of them had just taken a swing at David, making my heart skip a beat, and another had just lunged for the small curly-haired one who was in with him. Luckily though, David ducked – if he hadn't, the guy probably would have taken his head off. And then he walked right up to the man and landed a punch of his own. But just as I saw him drawing his arm back, the guy he was fighting with was sprawled on the floor, blood trickling from his nose. It appeared broken.

David's trademark smirk appeared on his lips as the other guys backed off with looks of surprised fear on their faces, hands up in surrender. I wondered how one teenager was able to scare off three other men with a single punch. But it didn't matter to me right then.

"What the hell?" I yelled, storming up to David.

For once he looked surprised to see me. "Becca," he said, his voice a few octaves higher than normal.

"What were you thinking, starting a fight with them? You could have got hurt; they were about ten times the size of you!"

He seemed even more surprised at my concern for his wellbeing, but then, so was I. "They started it,"

He sounded so much like a kid making excuses to his parents that I almost laughed. I just managed to hold it back though – I needed to save my breath for my rant.

"I don't care who started it! It was stupid and reckless of you, and you should know better than to –"

Suddenly, one of his pals burst out laughing, obviously finding mine and David's predicament hilarious. I glared at him.

"Shut up, Paul!" David snapped, the tiniest hint of a blush in his pale cheeks.

The one called Paul didn't shut up, but instead laughed even louder than before until his whole body was shaking with it. David growled but didn't hit him or anything, which I thought was an achievement.

"Forget it," I mumbled, scowling in Paul's direction with as much hate as I could muster. He seemed to find this even funnier.

"So why are you here?" asked David, and I could tell he was trying to distract my attention from Paul.

"Oh, what, am I not allowed to come to the boardwalk now? I'm just hanging out, like everyone else does. Why else would I come here?"

He surveyed me with those icy blue eyes, before responding: "I don't know,"

And then: "Hey," the one with curly hair spoke up, "Why don't you come back to our place? There's no fun in just standing here."

I looked at David. "Alright – I don't mind."

David gave the short guy a warning glance. "Let's go, then." he said, but his voice was darker than before.

We started to head towards the exit. The curly-haired one jogged over to me and David, and winked at me. "I'm Marko, by the way."

"Hi," I said. This kid – the youngest of them, I could tell – seemed to be the friendliest of the four.

"That guy's Dwayne – he doesn't speak much," Marko told me.

I nodded. "I noticed."

"Are you riding with me?" asked David, "Or are you taking Michael's bike?"

"I'll –" I cut off. "Hey, how do you know I've got his bike?"

He looked at me sheepishly. "I guessed," was all he said.

I _harrumphed _but let it go. "I'll ride with you."

"Okay,"

I could tell he was smirking, but I ignored him and glared at the ground instead. When we reached the bikes, I automatically climbed on after David without being told, and he started up the engine. I had no idea where we were going – but I couldn't help but notice how Marko said 'our' when he was talking about going back to his place. The idea of them all living together was weird . . . didn't they have a family, or something?

It was only when we started to get further away from town and closer to the seaside cliffs that I began to worry.

"Where are we going?" I yelled to David over the roar of the bikes.

He stopped hollering and shouting for a second to answer me. "It's not far,"

And that was the best answer I could get out of him. I could feel a grin spread across my face as he sped up, surpassing the rest of the boys and tailing off down a narrow, sandy track. Further behind, I heard three more engines accelerate, and the yells and shrieks mounted with them. I let out one wild laugh myself – I'd mentioned that I didn't like bikes, but honestly? This was the most fun I'd had in ages.

We started to slow down as we reached the edge of the cliff, which scared the hell out of me – I was terrified of heights, especially when if you fall the only thing to greet you at the bottom is sharp rocks and certain death. But I pretended to be indifferent towards the crashing water below. To keep my mind off the cliff, I looked around. There was metal fencing and a bunch of signs reading various warnings, but all with the same basic message: _keep out or you'll die. _Some place.

"Erm, are we here?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant as I hopped off the bike.

David wasn't fooled, and he laughed. "Yep, but it's better on the inside than out, trust me."

I saw the tall dark-haired one give him a weird glance. He looked like he was confused about something, but I shrugged it off with a shake of my head. David took my hand and towed me into an opening in the rocks to the side of us. He lived in a cave? Well, that explained where his attitude came from. Perhaps he was raised by wild dogs.

And then, at the end of the tunnel, I saw light up ahead. He dragged me further into the cave, and I found myself in what appeared to be a hotel. Well, a _trashed _hotel to say the least. There were several braziers in the room, each holding a small fire inside, and the furniture was mismatched and dusty. An old chandelier was in the middle of the place, looking oddly out of place in the shabby scenario.

"Wow," I whispered.

This was more than I'd anticipated, and weirdly . . . I thought it was pretty cool. I wondered, though . . . did they have showers in this place? I couldn't think of where they could fit them. But knowing David, I figured anything was possible.

"You _live _here?" I asked in awe.

He seemed pleased at my approval. "Yep. Used to be a hotel, but they built it right on the fault line. So when the earthquake came eighty-five years ago, this place just got swallowed up into the ground . . . and now –" he gestured around the room with a sweeping motion, "– It's ours."

"Cool," was all I could say.

And then I noticed movement in the furthest corner of the room – Star was standing there, eyeing us curiously with a weird look on her face. She was looking right at me, and I noticed a strange resemblance with the expression she was wearing now to the one she wore in my dream. Creepy.

But I ignored it. "Hey . . . Star."

Her lips twisted into a tight smile. "Rebecca."  
>Hm. I guess Michael told her about me. And then she looked away from me to glare at David. I could see that she was trying to tell him something with her eyes, but I couldn't be sure what it was. Like she was begging him, and yet scolding him at the same time. He just shook his head and glared back at her.<p>

"You hungry?" Paul had walked up behind us.

I shrugged. "A little,"

"Go get some food for our guest, Marko. She's hungry." He clicked his fingers to prove his point, and I noticed how he over-exaggerated the word 'guest'.

I frowned. Marko did as he was told, and went off into an adjacent room. David towed me over to one of the many tattered couches and we sat down, both watching as Marko entered the room again with a few white boxes stacked in his arms. Paul and Dwayne flopped down onto nearby chairs, and Marko gave some of the food to David before seating himself in his own chair.

"You like Chinese?" He asked, offering me a box.

"Uh, sure." I didn't mind it.

Star walked forward then, eyeing David in a strange way before seating herself carefully on the armrest of a chair. She then glanced at the food in my hand and back again. Marko threw us all a pair of chopsticks, and I opened the box, inspecting the contents.

Noodles. David opened his own box, and began to eat. I noticed that no one started to eat before he did, and that Star didn't have any food, which made me feel kind of guilty. But before I could offer her any of mine, David looked at me.

"Are you going to eat that?"

"Yeah, just thinking of something . . ." I shook my head and picked up some noodles.

They didn't taste bad, but I noticed that everyone was staring at me as if they couldn't believe what I'd just done. I glanced into the box, just to make sure I hadn't mistaken the provisions, and saw that they were just what I thought they were . . . noodles. So why was everyone looking at me that way? I noticed David was the only one that wasn't.

"What?" I asked, and looked into the box again. Still noodles. I hoped they weren't poisoned.

I then looked at Star, whose eyebrows had risen so high on her forehead they'd almost disappeared under her bushy hair. She was now staring at David disbelievingly, as if he'd just done something she never would have thought possible. The three others were just the same, gaping at me and David as if he'd just proposed to me.

"They aren't . . ." Dwayne said; the first time I'd heard him speak. "They aren't worms?"

"What do you mean, 'they aren't worms?'" I stared into the box, looking for any sign of the insects, but couldn't find any.

"Oh, real funny, guys. You fooled me." I rolled my eyes.

I glanced at David who was looking so smug that I was surprised no one had hit him yet.

"What have you put in my food?" I asked warily.

"Nothing. Does it taste like I've put anything in your food?"

"No . . . but why are they saying there are worms in here?" I prodded the noodles suspiciously.

"They're just tired, that's all. They come out with some strange stuff at this time."

"Right," I continued to eat the noodles.

When I'd finished, and everyone seemed almost back to normal – their kind of 'normal', anyway – Marko stood up.

"Are you thirsty?" he said, looking at me with a funny expression on his face.

But before I could respond, David had risen and lobbed his chopsticks right at Marko, who ducked to avoid the missiles. He sat back down guiltily.

"What was that about?" I asked incredulously.

"Nothing," growled David.

But one look at his face told me that 'nothing' was the wrong word to use. It seemed like the adequate word for the situation would be 'everything'.

"If you don't mind, Marko, would you go and fetch some water for Rebecca."

Marko silently obeyed, probably noticing how David had snarled the command and how he had emphasised the word 'water'. His face reddened slightly.

"I'm not that thirsty . . ." I murmured, so just David could hear me.

But I still drank the water when Marko brought it, just because I felt sorry for the guy. I still didn't know why David had thrown the chopsticks at him.

"You up for another ride, or do you want to go home? He asked.

"I think . . ." I said, considering. "I think another ride would suit me just fine."

The smile that spread across David's face encouraged me further – I was sure that if Michael found out about this, he was going to be very, _very_ pissed off.

And that was why I was here, right?


	7. Naive

The 'ride' was a little different than I expected, but still fun. Who knew David could drive a motorcycle so well? We'd gone all along the edge of the cliffs – and when I say _edge_, I mean it – at top speed, not even stopping when the rocks suddenly cut off in a different direction. It was like he knew the way perfectly, as if there was a map engraved in the back of his head.

It had just started to get light when he took me back home, dropping me off just outside the house again, like before. Luckily though, Michael didn't try to almost kill him like last time. But it was an awkward goodbye – for me anyway; David never seemed to find anything awkward – since Marko, Paul and Dwayne were all watching us, as if waiting for some kind of episode to take place. Of course, nothing happened.

I wanted to just drop onto my bed and fall asleep as soon as I got in, but I knew that I'd only get a couple of hours. Maybe I could run on a Michael-schedule, and sleep off the day while I went out all night. Sounded fun . . . especially as there was no one around in the day to hang out with, since my older brother had practically ditched me, and my younger brother had two creeps with him all the time. The Frog brothers, they were called. I could vaguely remember seeing them in the comic store when we'd first moved to Santa Carla . . .

As soon as I decided that I wasn't about to fall asleep, I found myself lying on my bed fully-dressed. Hm. I must have dozed off at some point.

I yawned groggily and stumbled off the mattress. I stripped off my jeans and t-shirt, and rummaged around in my wardrobe for something to wear. I picked the first thing my hands could find, and pulled them on. I wasn't in the mood for being fussy. But as I looked in the mirror, I realized I appeared just as bad as I felt. The bags under my eyes were darker then they'd been in ages; my hair was no more than a rat's nest, and I automatically knew that I'd soon have to rip half of it out when I brushed it; my face was smeared with mascara stains and I looked like I'd just walked off the set of a zombie film. I hoped I hadn't looked this bad when I went out last night.

"You're kidding!" I exclaimed when I looked at the clock.

_4:24pm._

Hell, maybe I was running on a Michael-schedule after all. But who cares? Staying out all night was more fun than being cooped up inside while everyone else was having a good time. Screw what everyone else thought.

And then I remembered that I'd left Michael's bike at the boardwalk. It didn't bother me that much to think how angry he'd be if he knew – I could easily bring it back before he woke up, if he got up at all, that is. And I couldn't be bothered to go get it right now . . . maybe I could just walk to the boardwalk tonight, and then bring it back when I felt like coming home. Seemed like a good idea.

The sky had turned a velvety black by the time I managed to drag myself out of the house and down the street. The stars were quite clear tonight, twinkling innocently above my head. I jingled the keys merrily in my hand as I wandered into town. It was only a few minutes before I could see the vivid lights of the boardwalk in the distance, severe in contrast to the soft radiance of the night.

I found Michael's bike exactly where I'd left it the night before, and luckily nothing had happened to it. That surprised me, considering how often crimes occurred round Santa Carla. I remembered the sign I'd seen when I'd first came here, and recalled the message on the back. I still wasn't afraid of it, but I couldn't help but notice how many 'missing' flyers there were posted around the place.

I strolled into the boardwalk with my eyes already scanning the crowd for a familiar face. A _certain _familiar face, I though dryly. It wasn't long before I found one – but it wasn't the one I'd been hoping for.

"Paul," I said, noticing the blonde watching me curiously.

He smiled in return, and I immediately felt myself do the same. His good mood was infectious.

"Becca," he grinned. "What's up?"

"Not much. Where's David?"

He rolled his eyes. "How did I know that one was coming? He's out with the guys."

"Why aren't you with them?"

"Just thought I'd hang round here. They're not exactly up to much – gone chasing girls, I expect."

Something tightened in my chest. "They do that a lot?"

"I guess,"

I felt blood spread across my cheeks, and realized what the tight feeling in my chest was – jealousy. It had been so long since I'd experienced it, I'd almost forgotten the sensation. But I had _no right _to be feeling it at all. Why should I care if David went after girls? I had no tie on him. It shouldn't bother me at all.

But it did anyway. I looked away from Paul, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. I hadn't cried in ages and felt weak doing it now, all because of some stupid boy that I shouldn't even care about. According to what I'd been telling myself, I was doing all this to get back at Michael. I guess I'd screwed that one up big time.

"You alright?" Paul asked, strangely unsurprised by my reaction.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I wasn't going to cry, I wasn't . . .

"I'm leaving in a minute," said Paul, "d'you want to come? David will be back soon and you can probably see him before you go."

"Okay," I was glad to hear that my voice sounded relatively normal.

He patted me on the back sympathetically as we went, and I resisted the urge to hit him. He _should not _be seeing this. These were my private feelings on display here, and in accepting the ride, I opened myself up to mockery from Paul for them. I just hoped that he _didn't _taunt me about it, as much as he'd probably love to. But I had a strange feeling in me, one that told me I might just be able to get my own back.

I seated myself on Paul's motorcycle with growing ease, and he started the engine. I tried to make note of where we were going. Maybe I could make my own little visits now and again, to save me from my long waits at the boardwalk.

I was proud to say that not a single tear spilled from my eyes in our journey to the cave. I felt a bit happier now, knowing that David was going to be pretty pissed when he came back. It was harder than it should have been, though, to keep imaginings of him 'chasing girls' off my mind.

"So, I guess you like David a lot, then," said Paul, making it a question.

"A little, I guess. It's nothing big." Liar, I scolded myself.

"Fair enough, "

He sat down next to me on the couch, and slung his arm around me. I could tell he didn't mean it in a romantic way, which I was glad for. I might want David to _think _something was going on, but that didn't mean I was going to lower myself to his standards in order to get revenge.

"I was only joking when I said about David earlier, you know . . ." began Paul, a little worried. "I mean, it was probably just Marko and Dwayne doing that, I doubt David's involved, not that it really matters . . ."

"Spare me the bullshit, Paul." I sighed. "I honestly _don't care _what David gets up to in his own time. He could knock up a million girls, for all it matters to me."

"If you say so," he shrugged. "But I meant what I just said. They're probably just out for a ride or something – I doubt he'd do that when you two are dating, and stuff."

A ridiculously warm feeling blossomed in my chest, and I internally kicked myself. We weren't dating – Paul knew that. He was probably only saying that so he didn't hurt my feelings.

"We're not dating, Paul," I said, but unfortunately my tone of voice mirrored the feelings inside of me.

"That's not what it looks like, but I'll take your word for it."

I managed to stop a stupid, irrational smile from spreading across my face. This was inexcusable behaviour. It didn't matter what anyone else thought, we were _not _dating, and I certainly did _not _care about David in any way, shape, or form.

"You thirsty?" asked Paul after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

I couldn't help but notice that he asked this in the same tone that Marko had the night before. David had thrown chopsticks at him then, so I was pretty sure that whatever it was with being thirsty, it was not a good thing in David's eyes.

I grinned. "Sure,"

I saw a kind of relief in Paul's eyes then, and he took his arm off me and swaggered out of the room. I rearranged myself into a more comfortable position on the couch, and rested my head back on the pillows.

"I hope you like wine," said Paul happily as he skipped back into the room.

He was carrying an ornately jewelled bottle, which looked like it was expensive. I blanched as he sat down next to me. The gems on the bottle were blood red, and looked uncannily like rubies.

"Sure I do," I lied.

Any kind of alcohol tasted disgustingly sour and bitter to me. I'd been drunk once, and I could remember waking up in the morning with a pounding headache and aching stomach muscles. I didn't want to experience that again; I just had to hope that he didn't try to make me drink the whole bottle.

He unscrewed the lid, and took a swig before handing it to me. I wondered what the percent it was when I saw him shudder. But I took a gulp anyway, and acted like I enjoyed it. It tasted weird – old and musty, with a metallic taste to it. But seeing as I'd only ever had cheap stuff I guessed it was normal, and took another gulp.

As soon as I put the bottle down I started to feel a bit queasy. Two swigs of wine and I was already starting to feel nauseous – I couldn't believe I was such a lightweight.

"How do you feel?" asked Paul, starting to smile.

"I . . ." I didn't notice the odd question. "I feel _great_,"

It was true. The queasiness had been replaced by a fluttering feeling in the pit of my stomach, which burned a little but felt wonderful. A smile of my own started to tug at the corners of my mouth.

"What's _in _that stuff?"

He looked a little smug. "It's just wine. Don't tell me you've never had alcohol before?"

"Shut up. Of course I have." I said jokingly. "Can we go somewhere? I feel a little keyed up,"

I started to stand, but tripped on my own feet and came crashing back down onto the floor. It should have hurt, but I started laughing. Paul looked as unconcerned as I felt, as if it was completely normal to get high off two gulps of wine.

"I can tell," he said, helping me up off the floor.

I continued to giggle stupidly as he helped drag me out the cave and onto his bike. We rode for a while – I estimated an hour – and all the while the ecstasy increased. I found it hard to stay on the bike, and I gripped Paul firmly so that I wouldn't fall off. We shouldn't be going this fast when I was this out of it.

There was an eerie sense of déjà vu as he took us away from the cliffs, all the way to a secluded part of the beach where the stars shone brighter than I'd ever seen them in Santa Carla. The sand was bleached bone white by the moon. I shuddered. I realized why I'd thought I'd seen this before; I'd been here in my dream.

Like a reminder of the disturbing night, Star's voice echoed in my head.

_He wants your blood . . ._

Then suddenly there was a jolt in my body, and an ear-splitting screech escaped my lips. I fell sideways off the bike. There were a multitude of agonizing _snaps _in my body, each delivering hot waves of pain that rolled through me like fire, licking through my veins in a hot tongue of flames. I screamed again, and warm liquid bubbled up my throat.

Through all the torture, I felt myself roll to a stop on the sand. I tried to open my eyes, but they were glued shut. There was nothing but blackness, blackness and unbearable agony. I felt hot blood pour from various points in my body, and I knew it was pathetic to think that I'd survive this, or even another hour.

_It's not too late . . . _again Star's voice resonated in my head.

_Help, _I tried to tell the voice, but it was gone.

There was nothing . . . nothing but my own voice telling me how naive I must be to ride a motorcycle when I was this intoxicated, to trust a boy who was hardly older than me to keep me safe.

As the final wave of agony dragged me under, I heard David's voice calling out to me through the blackness. I tried to reach out to him, to touch him, but I was being pulled further under, unable to move in the scorching agony.

It seemed humiliating that just after I'd found something that I really wanted, everything was all taken away from me in one, reckless moment. A bike. After everything I'd survived back in England, after all I'd endured, I'd been brought down by a bike.

My last conscious thought was Star's declaration:

_It's not too late._


	8. Monster

My eyes snapped open. It was disorienting, waking up in absolute blackness. For a second I was one-hundred percent sure I was dead. It was only when I heard my heart pumping irregularly in my chest that I finally realized I was still alive, still breathing.

My forehead creased. What had happened? I couldn't remember clearly . . . there was a motorbike, a starlit beach, confusion . . . and pain, lots of pain . . . blood, too. I could remember falling off the bike. But if that was true, then surely I would be dead? Surely I would be in agony, be able to feel my broken bones and punctured arteries?

I didn't know. Maybe it was just another dream, one that was so real and lifelike I could feel the pain searing in my veins as I fell. That was the only explanation.

I curled my fingers into a fist. I winced, expecting pain, but none came. Cautiously, I shifted my arm, and when the agony still didn't come, I sat up. My vision span, and I plonked back down onto what I thought was a mattress. Still no pain.

I got up more slowly this time, giving my body a chance to adjust to the movement. I could see a faint splinter of silver moonlight falling through what appeared to be . . . I squinted. The light was coming from my curtains. I was in my room.

This time I shot up off the bed – _my _bed_ – _and ran to the window. I yanked the curtains open. It was late at night, from what I could see, and the stars were obscured by the black rainclouds that hung ominously in the sky. My face paled when I saw Michael's bike propped up against the wooden fence. It had not been a dream. I _knew _I'd taken the bike out, and I _knew _that if I left it for more than a day then Michael would have found it and brought it back.

"You're up," the voice that sounded from behind me made me jump in fright.

My hand flew to my throat. "Mike," I choked – speak of the devil.

"You took out my bike, and you didn't bring it back. Where did you go?"

"I – I walked back. I'm sorry . . ." I had a hard time getting my breathing in control.

"You went to see David."

"Only once, Mike, I didn't mean to. I swear. I didn't know . . ."

And then I realized he didn't know about me dying. Me _almost _dying, anyway. It was hard to adjust to the fact after I'd just accepted I was a goner.

"What were you thinking?" Michael's voice grew louder with each word. "He's dangerous, Becky, stay away from him."

He took a step towards me into the thin sliver of moonlight that was protruding from the gap in the curtains. His face was sweaty, his hair matted. I could tell he was angry – very angry at that – by the hard square of his jaw and his steely eyes.

"It wasn't him," again, I forgot that to Michael, I hadn't almost died last night.

"What do you mean, _it wasn't him?_" he growled. "What's _it_? Who _did _it?"

I blushed. "Nothing. I'm tired, go away. I don't want you spying on me."

"What's the matter with you?" his tone had suddenly changed from angry to enquiring.

"What do you mean?"

He walked forward and looked at my face. I suddenly noticed that I was sweating like a pig, and that my teeth were chattering uncontrollably. And it wasn't from the cold.

His eyes narrowed suddenly. "When did you last see them?"

"Who?"

"Them." his voice shook. "David. The rest of them."

"I don't know. I saw Paul yesterday – we went back to the cave . . . I don't know what happened after that, though, because it was all really weird – Michael?"

But he wasn't listening. His fingers were pinching the bridge of his nose, and his eyes were screwed up, making him look like an old, pained man. I could see his hands shaking with suppressed emotion.

"Tell me," his voice mimicked his expression. "Tell me that you didn't have anything to drink, please, Becky . . ."

"Why? What's wrong with the wine? _What's wrong, Michael!_"

"Oh, God . . ." Michael was desperately glancing around the room, as if searching for a way out. "I'll be back . . . stay here!"

He gave me a frantic look, before storming out the room in a gust of wind. A minute later I heard his bike start up. I felt sick. His words had left me confused and dazed, as if something worse than I could possibly imagine might be coming up before I could prepare myself. What scared me most, though, was his reaction to the wine. What was in it? Was it drugged? Why did he and David have the same response to the thought of me drinking it? Each question was still unsolved by the end of the morning, where I sat curled up at the foot of my bed with my head in my hands.

My alarm clock beeped, but I didn't bother to get up and turn it off. It was only when Lucy came in to see why it was still bleeping that I snapped my head up and opened my eyes.

"Becky?" she asked, peering at me from the doorway. "Becky, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I lied.

I didn't sound very convincing – my voice was groggy and scratched at my throat when it came out, and I wouldn't look her in the eye. I tried to cover my face with my hair so that she wouldn't see the dark circles under my eyes, which were a dead-giveaway of exactly how I felt right now.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," she took my sarcastic tone as a way of telling that I was normal – which I wasn't.

"Okay then, if you're sure." Lucy stopped the alarm, and left the room.

I exhaled. Whatever was going on, it was not good. Not good at all. I stood up and rubbed my forehead wearily, before finally going to open the curtains.

The late-morning sun burned my eyes. I gasped, and threw the fabric back into place. My eyes smarted, and tears welled up, spilling over my lids and down my cheeks. Ouch. I dabbed my face with the hem of my shirt, shocked at how much the sun hurt my unadjusted eyes.

I opened the curtains again, trying not to look directly at the source of the light. It still hurt, though, and more tears spilled over. I squinted and blinked rapidly. My sunglasses lay on my desk in the far corner of my room; I put them on, immediately encompassing my surroundings in twilight. That was better.

But as soon as I walked back into the direct path of light, I grew suddenly weary. My muscles ached as if I'd been running all day. I drew the curtains shut resentfully, and fell onto my mattress.

A few minutes later, a long-forgotten thought popped into my head: Michael. He hated the sun. Everything started going wrong when he began to hang round with Star and the 'rest of them', as he put it. Could it be happening all over again?

I scrambled to my feet in a sudden burst of energy. Maybe . . . maybe I was the thing that Michael had become . . . whatever that was. Time to find out.

I stood on the edge of my bed, with my arms out like wings to the side of me. I took a deep breath. My knees bent and I leaped off the bed, launching myself as far away from it as possible, further than I wanted to go. _Fly, _I begged myself. For a second I thought that I'd stopped my rapid descent, but a moment later I crashed to the floor in a heap of tangled limbs. To be honest, I felt pretty stupid. I thought I could fly. What an idiot.

I groaned as I got up off the floor. There was a sharp twinge in my right hip; I could tell I was going to have a bruise there tomorrow. I limped over to my door, clutching my leg and wondering what I should do. I couldn't fly yet, that was a fact. But I grew tired in the sunlight, and it burned my eyes so much I had to wear glasses. That was enough evidence to convince me.

"Sam?" I called tiredly, taking off me glasses.

There was an answering creak as his bedroom door opened across the hall. His face peered out, and I could tell he hadn't been sleeping well. That made two of us.

"Yeah?"

"Have you –" I made sure no one was listening. "– have you found out anything about Mike, yet?"

He paled slightly. "Uh . . ." he scrambled for words. "I don't think so. I mean, it's nothing big, y'know, it won't take long to get it sorted out . . ."

He was reluctant to tell me, but I grasped at the chance. "What, Sammy? What's the matter with him?" I rushed into his room and shut the door. "Tell me, I promise I won't say anything to Lucy."

He grimaced; there was no stopping me now. "Okay, but you promise you won't laugh? You'll believe me?"

"Why would I laugh? Of course I'll believe you."

"Hang on a sec, then."

He rummaged through the contents littering his desk, and pulled out a comic book. It looked like it was about vampires.

"Vampires?" I said, "You mean, Mike's a vampire?"

He nodded seriously, and I burst out laughing, clutching at my injured thigh.

"That's . . ." I began, trying to form the words properly. "That's not even funny, Sam! If he's ill or something, then what?"

"I'm telling the truth! He's a Creature of the Night, Becky!"

I managed to hold back more laughter. "Sam, we need to be serious. I think I've got the same thing he has. What if it's some type of cancer that no one knows about yet? Mike and I could die, Sam! Stop making up fairytales."

"What –" he stammered, "What do you mean, _you've got the same thing that he has_?"

"As in, I think I've caught the disease, and if it's something fatal then we really should, y'know, get help or something . . ."

He grew whiter and whiter as I rambled on with my theory, and just as I almost convinced myself that I was infected with some sort of anti-biotic resistant virus, he spoke:

"Do you hate the sun?"

"No, but it's irritating me this morning. I think the disease might be killing off my tolerance to vitamin D –"

"Can you look at yourself in a mirror?"

"Hey! I'm not vain – I don't stare at myself all the time like some people do." I was beginning to get slightly offended.

"Do you want to drink my blood?"

"No –" I stopped. "What kind of a stupid question is that?"

"_Do you?_"

"No!" I looked behind me at the door. "Look, I've got to go. I'm honestly kind of freaked out at the moment. Give me some time to . . . to think about things."

"Becky, wait –"

"Not now, Sam. I've got things to sort out."

"But Becky –"

I slammed the door in his face. My hands shook, partly out of concern for Sam and partly out of concern for myself. I knew Sam wasn't crazy, but it certainly looked like he was headed in that direction. Vampires . . . I shook my head. I didn't feel like laughing anymore. Everything was too confusing.

My fingers were on the front door handle when I stopped. Where was I going? To the boardwalk? I didn't even know _who_ I was looking for. _David, _my mind kept telling me, but I ignored it. I felt the most rational thing to do would be to find Paul . . . who would probably be with David. Suddenly the idea seemed far too good to me than was healthy. But either way, I wasn't even sure I knew how to get to the cave.

I opened the door and stepped out into the light, fumbling for my sunglasses. I found them and put them on. Mike's motorcycle was leaning against the fence as it had been last night, gleaming red in the sun, and looking less appealing now than it ever had before. But I needed to find Paul. Or David – most preferably the latter.

I clambered onto the bike, my palms slick with sweat. The sun felt ten times hotter on my back as I sped away. But it was better than walking, which I assumed Michael was doing, wherever he was.

It was a long ride.

I managed to get half the way to the cave, or at least, that's what I thought. But ten minutes after I'd acknowledged the fact, I found myself completely off course. I felt useless. I knew I couldn't turn back – the gas was running extremely low.

"Idiot," I muttered to myself. Why hadn't I refilled the tank before I'd left?

I slid off the bike. The sun was low in the sky, and it was so hot it felt like my skin would melt in the scorching heat. I wiped my sweaty forehead with my palm. All I could see for what appeared to be miles was just dry, sandy landscape, with the odd shrub here and there. No sign of civilization at all. I took a deep breath, and climbed back onto the motorcycle. I'd best go straight forward, and hope that, by some miracle, I'd find the cave.

But no such luck. After twenty minutes of agonizing riding, the bike's engine stuttered, and then finally stopped. I swore out loud, jumped off the bike and began to kick the shiny red metal, not stopping until my toes had gone numb from the impact. What was I going to do? My throat was parched; there were no people around for at least twenty miles; my bike had ran out of gas and all around me was sand, sand, and more sand. I don't think I'd ever been in such a pathetic situation.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid, _I told myself, smacking my head with the palm of my hand. How did I get myself into this mess? I go to find a solution to all of my problems, just to end up with more worries than I'd started with!

I flopped down onto the sand beside Michael's bike, and closed my eyes. I had to sort this out rationally. I took a deep breathe and thought. What would be my best course of action from here? I listed my options:

Option one: I sat here and waited until someone found me, by which time I'd probably be dead. Option two: I carried on walking in the hope that I'd get back home. And option three: . . . well, I didn't really have an option three. I'd just have to do the best with what I was given.

I decided on option two. I picked a direction at random, since I had no idea which one was more likely to head home, and started walking. I'd have hell to pay when I got home – _if _I got home – but I had bigger problems to worry about than Lucy and Michael right now. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that the sun had almost disappeared from the sky. The cold was better to me than the scorching heat I'd endured for the past few hours, no matter how chilly it got.

I walked for what felt like days, but must only have been hours. By now the crimson sky had turned a velvety black, the stars clearly visible and twinkling above my head. I found nothing indicating I was on the right track.

"Stupid . . . idiot . . ." I gasped as I sank to the ground.

My limbs were shaking, and my muscles were burning from walking for so long. I felt as if I could drink and drink and never stop. My tongue was so dry and rough that it hurt my mouth if I rubbed them together.

I sat there for a while, hurting too much to fall asleep. I did drift out of consciousness once, though, but I was woken up after what must only have been half an hour. When I realized what had roused me, my eyes lit up. Music. I could hear music. It didn't seem to be that far from where I lay, curled up on the ground; merely on the other side of the sandy hill which stood to my left. I sat up, wincing as my muscles throbbed. There was a scent in the air, one that was familiar but that I couldn't place. I sniffed, and my mouth watered. I knew that if I crossed the sandy mound, I would find not only people, but something to satisfy the burning thirst that was becoming too much to bear. I didn't know how I knew. I just did.

I dragged myself on my hands and knees up to the top of the small hill. The first thing I noticed was a huge, blazing fire not twenty meters from where I kneeled. The second thing I noticed was that there were people there – about eight of them, dancing and flouncing around the inferno, looking like they were having a good time.

I suddenly cried out, but none of them heard me. As soon as I'd seen the people, a pain so excruciating erupted in my throat that I couldn't bear to look at them, couldn't bear to see their bodies. I'd seen the pulse throbbing in the neck of a man. I could see that, under the delicate skin, blood flowed, blood that promised to quench my burning thirst. I let out a long, drawn-out scream. My hands sank into the sand, trying to stop me from leaping over the hill and ripping the man's throat out. They all went silent. I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth, and the scent hit me as hard as the first time. Another scream. I didn't know if they could see me or not; I forced myself not to look.

I felt something sharp pierce my lip – it seemed to be my teeth. It felt natural, so natural, and I wanted to kill every single one of them over the hill, until there was not one of them left. I wanted to suck their veins dry; I wanted to feel their sweet blood flow into my throat . . . a cross between a sob and a scream escaped my lips. Part of me was reasonable. Part of me wanted to keep these people alive. That part of me was strong enough to keep this . . . this _monster _inside of me at bay while I fought against myself, in a long, painful battle.

_Just do it, _a voice in my head commanded.

_No, I won't, I won't . . . _

_You will, _it sounded so sure that I would comply, I almost did.

_No! _I begged, willing the pain to stop.

I heard footsteps in front of me and my head snapped up. I looked at them with fevered eyes, silently screaming at them to run away. I don't know what they saw on my face, but they backed up.

"Woah . . . what's up with you, dude?" the man asked in a slurred voice.

I screamed again, this time with so much longing and desire that it echoed through my head a million times. In a minute, I would lose it completely. All I wanted was this man's blood. Nothing else mattered . . . I started to launch myself at him, but I caught myself and fell to the floor as soon as I'd left it.

"Get . . . away!" I hissed at him and tried not to breathe in his luscious scent.

He heard the danger in my voice, and backed away even more, until he tripped over his own feet. He scrambled away on his back, looking at my ravaged expression. I snarled, so close to taking him. But I resisted. I don't know how I did it, but I managed to ignore the pounding of blood in his neck. I tore my gaze away from him, and flew off the ground, running in the opposite direction.

I would not kill innocent people. I would not.

And so I ran. I don't know where the energy came from, but I felt revived, as if someone had dunked me in an icy tub of water until my head cleared. After a while, I felt the pain retreat into a dull throb at the back of my throat. My teeth shrunk to smooth, level edges. I found I could think straight.

As soon as I'd realized the thirst had gone, I became terrified. What had happened to me? What had Paul _done _to me?

And then Sam's voice spoke in my mind: _He's a Creature of the Night, Becky!_

My hate of the sun. The thirst. I suddenly knew Sam was right. I wasn't human. Something terrible, too terrible for words had happened to me, exactly one day ago. The wine . . . the wine had turned me into a monster. My stomach heaved, but there was nothing in it to throw up. I felt sick to my core. I'd wanted to kill innocent people . . . I retched again, the action burning my sore throat.

I had to go home. I had to sort this out – if Michael really was the same as me, then he'd know what to do. He'd know how to save me.

I starting walking again, not feeling my legs as they moved me forward. I was numb. I couldn't pay attention to my surroundings. I was so numb, in fact, that when I came to a wire fence I didn't notice until I bumped into it.

The fence jogged my memory, not leaving room for relief at having found civilization. There were warnings along the wire. And steps, leading into the rocks . . . I froze. The cave. I'd found it.

Now that I _had _found it, I didn't know whether I should go in or not. It scared me. Were Paul, Marko and Dwayne all monsters, too? Was David? I shuddered. It hurt too much to think of that last one as the truth. But after a lot of heavy decision making, I ventured inside. It was exactly the way I remembered it. And yet, it scared me more than it should have. The shadows seemed darker, as if there was something waiting there, ready to pounce on me, to snap me up in its jaws. Did something just move by the couch? Or was my imagination making things up?

I stepped inside a little more, until I couldn't see the black sky outside. My heart froze when I saw that the movement by the couch was not a figment of my imagination.

"David," I choked.

He was looking at me carefully, sitting in a wheelchair at the back of the room. I would've laughed in any other situation. Right now I just stared.

"Rebecca," his voice betrayed no emotion; it sounded empty.

My heart swelled. I ran over to him, forgetting my worries about the fact that he might be a monster. He stood up and caught me in his arms. I didn't fight against his embrace; it was the only form of comfort I had. In fact, it was nice. His smell . . . he didn't smell like the man before. It was a different scent; warm, subtle, gentle. Not like food.

"David," I repeated, pleading. "David, what's happening to me?"

He looked into my eyes, and for a moment I thought I saw a flicker of regret there. It was gone before I could confirm it.

His voice was proud when he next spoke: "You're one of us now, Becca."


	9. Confrontation

**Hey, guys. Just letting you know that I won't be updating for at least five days, because I'm going on holiday on Sunday, sorry! But I'll keep writing, so hopefully I'll have another chapter written by the time I get back. If I don't then I apologize in advance . . . Read and review ;)**

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><p><em>"Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart."<em>

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><p>"What's that supposed to mean?" I whispered, a tear escaping out the corner of my eye.<p>

He wiped the droplet away with the tip of a gloved finger. "There's no need to cry," he said, voice soft. "You'll understand soon enough. Right now though, you'll just have to bear it."

"Please," I begged, "tell me what to do."

"Later. I know it's hard; you've just got to wait."

I started to cry for real this time, screwing up my face against his coat. He wasn't sympathetic, but he was patient. He waited.

"Just . . ." my voice was thick. "Just tell me what I am,"

"You won't like it."

"Please,"

He hesitated, but eventually sighed. "You're a vampire, Becca. A half-vampire, if you want to be specific."

"No," I said firmly, "I'm not. Vampires don't exist. You're lying."

"You'll believe me soon enough. Although . . ." he eyed me carefully. "I think I know what happened out there. You resisted. I wouldn't've thought you'd be able to, not the first time. It'll get harder for you, though, every day."

He spoke casually, as if he were commenting on the weather. I tried not to show how confused I was. "I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't resist anything. And what will get harder?"

"You're so stubborn, it's unbelievable. You'll deny what's right in front of your eyes to keep yourself content. It's fascinating to watch."

I stepped away from him. "I'm not denying anything. I know what I am."

"Then why are you asking me?" he had a point, actually.

I didn't answer, but backed away further. I wondered where Paul was, and Marko and Dwayne. I thought they would be here. David followed my retreat, looking merely amused at my continued denial of his words.

"Shall I prove to you what we are?" he asked.

I hated the way I glowed inside when he said _we. _"The only thing I want you to show me is the way _back home,_"

He laughed, and turned his back on me. He seemed to be deliberating. I stepped back again, but he held up a hand.

"Don't bother trying to escape. You can leave when I say so."

"I can leave when I feel like it,"

He looked back at me then, and my heart stopped. I could feel hysteria rising in me, a scream building in my throat, bubbling up to my mouth. His eyes were golden. His teeth were . . . his teeth were like mine had been. They were fangs.

The scream I'd been resisting found its way through my lips. It was like my dream all over again. He laughed as I bolted for the exit, tripping over my feet in fear and crashing to the ground. My legs felt like jelly. As soon as I'd taken a step, he was blocking my way, bearing down on me like a snake about to strike.

"This is what you are, Becca. Stop denying it!"

But I scrambled up again, half running and half crawling away from him. I couldn't scream, as much as I tried. What use would it be anyway? There was no one else around.

He was in front of me again, before I could take a step. I didn't look at him. If I did, I knew I wouldn't be able to stop my fear from incapacitating me.

"Go _away!_" I screamed. "Leave me _alone!_"

He didn't listen. I felt his arm grab hold of mine, but I still didn't look. This was it. Mike, Sam, they were right. He was dangerous. He was going to kill me.

"Look at you," he said, his voice full of incredulity.

He released my arm, and I fell to the floor. I glanced up at him. His eyes were fading from gold to blue, and I could see that his teeth were back to normal. But that didn't stop me from dashing past him while he wasn't paying attention. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, and I could feel the energy kicking in. My body had obviously decided that out of _fight or flight, _the latter was the best option in these circumstances. But he was after me as soon as I'd moved, and he was just as fast as before. His fingers snatched my wrist, pulling me toward him. I screamed and threw an awkward punch at his face. He dodged it.

"Stop fighting me!" he growled.

I pummelled his arm, though it did little good. All he did was manoeuvre me in a way that kept my arms locked behind my back. I kicked at him instead, but I found couldn't reach.

"You're just wearing yourself out, Becca. Let me explain. There's nothing to be afraid of." his voice sounded next to my ear.

The hell there was. I fought against his hold, thrashing and flailing with all my might. I felt his hand next to my face. Without thinking about it, I twisted my head and bit him – hard – on the hand. He gasped and let me go, and I seized the chance. I leaped out of his reach and rolled for all I was worth. I was almost out of the cave when he dived in front of me again. I didn't stop though, but barrelled into him as hard as I could. If I was going down, I was going down fighting.

He managed to twist me round to face him, and locked my arms to my sides. His face was so close to mine I held my breath.

Before I could say or do anything, his mouth was on mine. At first I resisted. But his lips were sweet, luscious, everything I ever hoped they could be. Without thinking about it, I kissed him back. Our lips moved together perfectly, moulding with each other in a way that made my heart thump erratically in my chest, and left me gasping for breath. His hands felt their way up my back, twisted in my hair, pulling me closer to him, and then – _smack!_

My fist collided with his face, and there was an audible crack. Dark blood oozed from his nose. It dribbled down his lips, into a small puddle that was forming on the floor. He looked at me, shock written across his face. For the first time, I'd taken him by surprise.

"No," I whispered.

Despite the fact that I'd been the one to throw the punch, tears leaked out of my eyes and ran down my cheeks. I felt defeated. I couldn't fight him any more. I didn't even try to run.

"Becca," he sounded as surprised as he looked.

"Go away!" I moaned, curling into a ball on the cold, hard floor.

He was a vampire. _I _was a vampire. Out of anyone or anything I could choose, I'd picked a vampire. Trust me to fall in love with someone so dangerous.

"Becca," he repeated, softly now.

I ignored him, sobbing so loud it hurt my ears. I felt a hand touch my back hesitantly. It was odd, how quickly things had turned around. One minute I was dead-set on taking him down, and the next I was letting him comfort me. It's a strange world.

"Leave me alone,"

"Not until you look at me,"

I snapped my head up, thinking of a million things I wanted to say to him. How horrible he was, how I could never, _never _love someone like him. But as soon as I met his eyes I swallowed it all back.

Instead I said the stupidest thing of my life, which was saying a lot. "Are you going to kill me?"

"No," he murmured, a slight note of irritation in his voice. "You're like me now. You don't have to be afraid."

"I'm _not _like you!"

"Stop denying the truth, Becca. You've felt it for yourself. You're a vampire."

"Why are you doing this?" I begged, staring into his crystal blue eyes. "Why would you do this to me?"

He suddenly turned harsh, as if he didn't want to take the responsibility of turning me into something I detested. "If you want to blame someone, blame Paul. He was the one that fed you the goddamn blood."

My eyes widened. "The wine . . . of course." I breathed.

"So don't even _think _about blaming this all on me."

I ignored him. "But why didn't I die?"

"What do you mean?"

"When I fell off the bike. It should've killed me."

His eyes narrowed, as if he was constraining anger. "Yes, it would have, if you were human. Paul was careless."

"I _am_ human,"

"Vampires heal quicker than humans," he explained, ignoring my feeble defiance. "But you still healed faster than anything I've ever seen before. I've never witnessed anyone's powers work so fast."

Did I imagine the hint of jealousy in his voice? "I don't want that. I don't want to be a freak."

He didn't get angry at the fact that I'd basically called him a freak; he had a frown on his face, as if he was trying to work out something that eluded him. "You can't change back."

"Yes, I can!"

I stood up, out of his reach. My heart was beating fast. I noticed that his nose had healed, that the blood had stopped flowing, but I tried to ignore it. I couldn't accept this. I couldn't be a monster forever.

"I'll kill myself," I said, willing the words to be true as soon as they'd escaped my lips. "I will. I don't have to be like this."

He looked suddenly worried – really worried, not like I'd ever seen him before. "Don't be stupid. Of course you won't." But I could tell he was only lying to himself. "You'll get over this eventually. It's not a big deal. Michael will be with us, and the rest of your family too, if you want."

I froze. "_What?_"

He spoke in a rush now, eager. "They'll join us. You don't have to be alone. I can give you whatever you want."

I think he thought that he'd said the magic words – that I wouldn't be alone, that I'd have my family. That I'd actually _want _them to be damned to hell.

Well, I was about to burst his bubble.

"You won't _touch _my family. You hear me?" there was not a trace of fear in my voice, only anger and determination. "You will not put them through this. If you even try, then I'll kill you."

I was beginning to accept the fact that, vampire or not, I cared about my family and would stay like this in order to protect them. They'd saved me once. It was time to return the favour.

"You couldn't kill me," he said, a slight smirk appearing on his face. The smirk that I loved and hated so much it was unbearable.

"I could,"

I knew that that was probably true, if it really came down to it. I knew what I was, and I knew that I was hell of a lot stronger than I used to be. The only question was whether I _would _kill him or not. I didn't know before now that it was possible to love someone and hate them at the same time.

He seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "_Could _you? I don't think you could,"

I knew what he meant, but I didn't show it. I balled my hands into fists. "D'you want to test that?"

"I don't want to fight you."

I was about to retaliate, when a thought came to my head. I gave him a smirk of my own, and waved goodbye. I wasn't going to let him boss me about. I was going to do what I wanted.

"See ya, David." Saying his name sent a thrill through me. I ignored it.

I strolled out of the cave, putting as much swagger into my walk as possible. I could hear his footsteps behind me, catching me up. He fell into step beside me.

"Don't go."

"Why not?"

"Because . . ." he struggled for words.

"Yes?"

"Because we belong together. You know that as well as I do."

I didn't show how much those words affected me, how much they made me want to stay. He'd never said a thing like that to me before.

"I won't go near your family. I swear. Just stay."

I almost stopped. It sounded so tempting . . . "Just leave me alone. I don't want you."

The lie didn't fool him. "You do. I saw it when we first met. You kept refusing me, saying you didn't care, but each time you came back to me."

"That was because I had to help Michael,"

"No," he sounded sure now, as if he'd known this all along but had only just realized how true it was. "That was what you kept telling yourself. But inside you knew you wanted me."

"Don't tell me how I feel!"

"Like I said before: you'll deny what's right in front of you to keep yourself happy. You say you don't love me, but I'm not buying it."

"Don't, then. You'll only be disappointed."

I was a short way away from the cave now, and the dark was rapidly fading. The sun would be up any minute now. He didn't notice, or he didn't care.

"You'll be back." He said.

"Keep dreaming."

"I will,"

He grabbed my hand in his and spun me round to face him. He pressed his lips to my forehead and smirked when I closed my eyes for a brief moment.

"Just don't do anything stupid. You'll want this eventually."

I wanted him to talk to me like this forever; like he cared for me, like it actually mattered to him whether I _did _do anything stupid or not. The only thing that made me pull away from him was telling myself that it was all lies.

"I won't. I hate you." Another lie.

"We'll see. Either way . . . if you don't want your family to join us . . . then it can be just you and me. No one could stop us. We'd be with each other forever."

I looked at him, and the only thing I wanted in the world was to believe him. He stared back as if he wanted that, too. He held out his hand, offering to take me back, and I almost caved.

I made the hardest decision of my life right there and then – I walked away.


	10. I'll break my own promises

**Hey guys! Finally able to update, since I have found a source of internet. This chapter has been lying dormant on my laptop for two days, now - I wrote it in no time at all! **

**Anyway, I hope you like it - please leave a review! ;)**

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><p><em>"If you love somebody, let them go. If they return, they were always yours. If they don't, they never were."<em>

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><p>"Rebecca? Hey, <em>earth to Rebecca!<em>" Sam's voice broke through my dream, which had something to do with motorcycles and black trench coats.

I rolled over to glare at him. "What?"

His face slowly came into focus as I blinked and squinted. He was carrying a colourful present in his arms, which looked like it had taken the best part of two minutes to wrap.

"What's that?"

"Are you serious – it's your _birthday, _remember? Are you sure you're alright?" he looked at me disbelievingly.

"I'm fine."

The truth: I was _not _fine. Three weeks away from the person you can't live without does a lot to you. Even at the mention of the birthday, all I felt was a dull surprise. Was it really the twenty-first of December? Not that I actually cared.

Sam held out the box to me expectantly. "Here's your present."

"Oh. Thanks."

I took the box, but didn't bother unwrapping it. Excitement generally had to be faked on my birthday anyway, but right now, that was just too much to expect.

"Are you coming downstairs or what?" asked Sam. "Michael and Lucy have got your other presents, if you want them."

I suppressed a groan. I hoped they hadn't gone _too _overboard trying to cheer me up. I'd hate their efforts to be in vain.

"Okay – I'm coming. Give me a minute."

He shrugged and left the room. _Urgh, _I thought. Distractions were generally honoured by me at these times, but when it involved me being the centre of attention I _did not _honour them one bit. I yawned and slid out of bed. One glance in the mirror told me that I looked like I'd died last night, so I yanked a brush through my tangled copper hair and put some mascara on. Much better.

I quickly changed, and then, as slowly as I could, walked down the stairs. Lucy, Michael, Sam, and Grandpa were all waiting for me in the kitchen. I faked a smile when I saw the presents they were carrying.

"Hey, guys!" I said

I had Sam's present tucked under one arm, still unopened. I heard him mutter something about 'enthusiasm' when he noticed. I sighed. I'd have to do a better job than that to convince them I actually cared.

Lucy hugged me. "Happy birthday," she said enthusiastically.

I wished I could share her passion. "Aw, thanks. You didn't have to."

She handed me a small gift. One down, two to go, I thought.

"Hey, Gramps." I said when he handed me a present of his own. It was stuffy and big, and I had a fairly good idea of what it was.

"Made that one especially for you, Becky." Was all he said.

Michael next. He smiled wryly and passed me a badly wrapped parcel. I felt something jungle inside when I took it, and immediately a tiny part my interest was caught.

"Thanks," I muttered, looking at the package quizzically.

Everyone watched as I sat down on the couch to open my presents, and I shifted slightly under their gaze. Lucy's gift was a necklace, which had a little silver charm on it. I almost laughed when I saw it was an angel. Sam's was a stack of comics – I noticed the one on top was about vampires.

He looked at me gravely when I opened it. Grandpa's was, as I'd guessed, a stuffed animal. Despite my vegetarianism, he'd given me a dead cat as a birthday present, which made me feel kind of sick. Michael's was . . . I frowned. A set of keys.

I looked at him. "What's this for?" I asked.

This time he grinned, and motioned for me to follow him outside. I tagged along behind him, but stopped when I came to the door. Lying on the step was a single red rose. I picked it up, my heart beating fast, a drop of sweat beading on my forehead. There was no note, just a flower, and I had a pretty good guess at who it was from.

"Michael?" I asked faintly. "Did you put a flower by the door?"

He walked back to me impatiently. "No. Now come on, you've got to see your present!"

_Another _present? I followed him cautiously, the rose gripped firmly in my hand. He was waiting outside the garage for me.

"Close your eyes!"

I obeyed silently. I heard him come forward and felt a small tug on my hand. He led me into the garage, and then told me to stop.

"Right, you can look now."

I peeked my eyes open. Standing in front of me, leaning against the garage wall, was a shiny black motorcycle. I recognized it instantly as a Harley-Davidson FXR.

I blanched. "Where the hell did you _get _that?"

"A friend fixed it up for me. Cost me barely anything – it wasn't exactly in working order when I first got it."

"But . . . but _why?_" I asked, blinking just to make sure I was seeing things right.

"Because you spent a whole day retrieving mine for me from when you lost it." He frowned. "I thought you could do with something to cheer you up."

"Wow," I breathed, running my hand along the shiny black metal. I guess I really had started to like bikes. "It's gorgeous."

I could see my large cinnamon-coloured eyes staring back at me in the metal, alight with wonder. The rose was still clutched protectively in my hand. I lifted it up to my nose and sniffed it; it had an exquisite but delicate scent, unlike anything I'd ever smelled before. It was lovely.

"So . . . I guess you like it, then." grinned Michael.

"Of course." I said, coming back to my senses. "I don't know how to repay you."

"Don't worry about it. Although . . ." the grin fell from his face. "I do want you to tell me something."

My defences immediately went up. "Yes?"

"I want you to tell me who the head vampire is. Is it David? Or is there another one?"

I flinched at hearing David's name. "I don't want to talk about that." My voice told him I would say no more on the subject.

"Please, we need to know. I think I might have found a way to get us out of this."

"Out of what?"

"You can't deny this forever, Becky. You know what I'm talking about."

I shuddered; his words were so similar to the ones I'd heard three weeks ago, just spoken from a different mouth. "I don't know who the head vampire is,"

"Are you sure?"

I nodded. "I'm sure,"

"Well . . . I hope you have a good birthday, then."

He left, and I leant against the bike with a grimace on my face. He was right. I _couldn't _deny this forever, because it would end up killing either me or someone else; I just hoped that it wouldn't be the latter.

David had been right, too. He said the thirst would get harder to refuse everyday. He only forgot to mention the part that not only did it get harder, but it also got more painful. Sometimes I would literally have to hold back my screams at night as I fought to ignore the wet pounding in the next room that was Sam's heart.

I blinked in the sun, and wiped a tear from my eye. I didn't know whether it was from the light or the pain in my chest as I thought of David. Sighing, I wandered back to the house and back to my family. Back to faking smiles and laughing through my misery.

I stopped when I saw Lucy. "Uh . . . Lucy? I'm going out tonight, okay? Y'know, to test my new bike."

"Sure, Becky." She didn't seem surprised that I'd got a bike for my birthday. She also didn't seem to care that I didn't have a licence.

"Thanks,"

I bounded up the stairs and flopped onto my bed. I brushed the delicate petals of the rose with the tip of my finger, noticing how the colour was the exact same shade of crimson as blood. I wondered it had been given not only as a gift, but as a reminder, too. I recalled what had been said on the night that I'd last seen its sender.

"_You'll be back." He said._

"_Keep dreaming."_

"_I will,"_

_He grabbed my hand in his and spun me round to face him. He pressed his lips to my forehead and smirked when I closed my eyes for a brief moment._

"_Just don't do anything stupid. You'll want this eventually."_

I sighed. There was no _eventually_ about it. I'd always wanted him, as I always _would _want him. It was a paradox: I couldn't stay away from him, but I couldn't possibly be near him, either. Why was my life always so complicated?

* * *

><p><em>Just don't do anything stupid. <em>Hm. Did that request include going back on the hundreds of promises I'd made to myself in the past three weeks? Because is it did, then I was going to have ignore it.

The clock by my bed told me it was _9:20pm_. It was pitch black outside, excluding the tiny stars that twinkled in the sky. My definition of a perfect night. I wandered out into the still night-time air, watching my breath cloud as it escaped my mouth. My new keys were clutched in my hand. I was wearing black skinny jeans, a red blouse and an unzipped leather jacket, all of which had been lying unworn in my drawers for a year previously. I decided a new wardrobe would complement a new start nicely.

I stroked my bike once before towing it out of the garage and swinging my leg over it. It gleamed with the tiny iridescent specks of light in the sky. My chest swelled with gratitude as I thought of the effort Michael had put into getting me this – I was undeserving of it.

But that thought slipped from my mind as I started up the engine. My eyes closed as I felt it come smoothly to life. The perfect bike . . . with the perfect name, I might add. I did notice when Michael gave it to me that it was a Harley-_David_son. Like I said; perfect. I slowly released the clutch, and the bike was almost airborne as it leaped forward at my command. I smiled slightly as I sped out of the driveway and down the road. The black asphalt was slick with rain, but I cared more about the bike getting ruined than me dying if I crashed it. After all, I'd fallen off a bike once, hadn't I? Couldn't be much worse if I did it again.

I full-on grinned when I saw the lights of the boardwalk ahead. I hadn't been there in three whole weeks, and for good reason too. Or for no reason at all, if you considered the fact that I was headed there right now. I pulled over outside the entrance.

I almost felt self-conscious as people stared, before I remembered I didn't care. I grinned at them all, showing off my teeth. Most of them looked away. I realized that I probably looked like a troublemaker, and laughed to myself. Normally I would've stayed away from anyone that looked like me, seventeen-year old girl or not. What a hypocrite.

My body tingled all over as I walked further in. It must've known that I was getting closer and closer to its missing piece. I felt almost happy, although I wasn't quite there yet. I'd broken my promises, true. But even the best have to fall down and swallow their pride sometimes.

I shuddered. I felt eyes on my back and turned round, so that I faced a carousel. I stopped breathing as my eyes fell on the face I'd been dying to see for three weeks. My heart swelled until it felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. Because, stood there, looking at me as if I was a ghost, was _him. _For once he wasn't smirking. He just looked . . . well, _happy_. Elated. Overjoyed. How I possibly felt.

I tried to smile, but it came out as a sort of lopsided grin. He laughed. After hearing that sound, I was completely sure that avoiding him and pretending he didn't exist was the stupidest thing I'd ever done. Nothing could compare to the sound of him laughing. It wasn't the annoying laugh that he gave when he was frustrating someone, like me, for instance. It was happy, beautiful.

So I stood there for heaven knows how long, gazing at him like an idiot. I was sure that if I could've seen myself then, I would've thrown up. I was never one for sappy romance. But eventually he came over to me, snapping me out of my stupid daydream.

"I told you you'd come," was all he said.

"I know."

Behind him, Paul burst out laughing. I glared at him. As for Paul . . . well, I still wasn't sure how I felt about _him_ yet.

He noticed me scowling and shut up. "Uh, hi Becky."

I ignored him and waved at Marko and Dwayne instead. Marko grinned at me, but Dwayne just nodded.

"I see you came around," Marko noted cheerfully.

"Yup,"

But I wasn't listening to what he said after that, because David put his arm around me. I shivered delicately.

"So, what now?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said, pretending to think about it. "I mean, we _do _have a while . . . forever, possibly."

He laughed again; his beautiful laugh. "Forever," he agreed. "I like the sound of that."

"Me too."

"Aw, come on, guys!" Complained Paul. "None of that, please, I'm gonna eat soon!"

I flinched, and he shifted nervously. "I, uh, mean, y'know, normal food . . ."

Marko, glanced at him, and then at me. "Happy birthday!" he burst out, obviously trying to break the suddenly tense atmosphere.

"Thanks,"

David tightened his grip on me. "We don't have to . . . _feed _tonight, not if you don't want to."

"Not really."

"But you've got to at some point, though, remember that." He warned. "You won't be able to stay like this for long."

"Yeah, right. I'll bear that in mind if I ever decide I want to be a murderer."

"The rest of us don't think like that, you know."

"That's what I'm afraid of." I admitted. "I don't _want _to think like that. I won't be myself if I do."

"Of course you will be. You'll always be the same to me."

"Thanks," I think he might've heard the sarcasm in my voice. I didn't really care.

"So . . ." said Marko. "I heard you've got a new bike?"

"Yeah, I have. How'd you find out?"

He looked at David, who smirked slightly. I guess I was right about who left me the rose. "D'you want to see it?"

Marko's interest perked up, and he suddenly didn't care about breaking the tension anymore. "Hell, yeah!"

I grinned, letting go of all my negative emotions. "Right this way,"

I led them to where my bike was parked, David's arm still slung over my shoulders. Paul tagged behind with Marko and Dwayne. I could tell he still felt awkward, but I knew that it would pass. He wasn't the type to linger on things. Even now, Marko was managing to succeed in cheering him up a bit. From what I'd seen, they were pretty close.

"Like it?" I asked as we drew near the bike.

Marko gaped at it, seemingly speechless. Paul wasn't so inhibited. He rushed over to the Harley, running his hands all along its sleek frame.

Marko seemed to recover slightly. "If you find your bike missing, he's got it." He pointed to Paul, who was still caressing the motorcycle.

I laughed. "I'll keep that in mind,"

I felt David relax slightly, and I could tell he was glad that I'd finally perked up a bit. Unlike the others, he didn't go over to the bike. He seemed absorbed in something entirely different. Embarrassingly, I felt my heartbeat begin to pick up as I noticed what his attention was focused on. He caught a lock of my bronze hair and twirled it around his finger, noticing how it caught the light, how soft it was. It made me shiver uncontrollably. He ran his lips across my jaw and pressed them in gentle kisses against my neck, trailing them down . . . I gasped. I'd been holding my breath ever since he'd touched my hair. Marko and Paul, who'd been engrossed in the Harley, turned to stare. Dwayne was already looking. I blushed and looked down, but David didn't seem to care. He touched his lips to me one more time before acknowledging the others.

"What?" he asked in irritation.

They all looked away, pretending to be engaged with the bike. It was easy to see that they weren't as into it as before. David had a smug look on his face that told me he'd noticed that, too.

"Are you ever going to stop being so conceited?" I questioned teasingly.

"They were staring," he joked, "it's rude."

"Since when did you care about being rude?"

He ignored me. I looked at the floor, and then felt something brush my hair; his lips, perhaps. I almost smiled, but my face muscles seemed to be frozen. My breathing was laboured. My body reacted the same way it always did when he touched me; my pulse quickened, my head span. It was all so irrational. With the previous boyfriends I'd had – not that there were many – I had never responded like this. But then, I hadn't felt this way about them, either. I also hadn't had any other vampire lovers before.

I looked up from the floor when I could finally breathe, and noticed that Marko was stealing glances at us out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't being very discreet about it, so I distracted David before he noticed him and punched him on the nose.

"What are you thinking?" I whispered, touching his hair; something I'd wanted to do since id first met him.

"I'm thinking that we're probably going to want to get out of here before your brother sees us,"

"What?" I looked around.

Marko, Paul, and Dwayne were all looking slightly awkward, glancing nervously at each other as the sound of another bike greeted the silence. David was still looking at me. His expression looked curious, as if he were trying to figure out what I was thinking.

"You're right, I think I do want to get out of here." I said anxiously. "Preferably before _he _makes me."

"Good call," said Marko, backing away into the boardwalk entrance. "I don't think you'd appreciate it very much if your brother went home with a few broken bones, would you?

I grimaced. "No, not really."

"Then we'd best be off."

"I second that notion," added Paul.

"Glad you guys could sort things out diplomatically."

"No problem. But it _is _shame that we'll miss a fight . . . maybe we can start one on the boardwalk."

"Paul!" I scolded.

He shrugged, grinning. "Just a thought, that's all."

I sighed and shook my head. "Whatever. I'm going; its not late, but _he _won't care about that. Bye, guys."

They all called goodbye and hurried off into the boardwalk, glancing back with longing expressions on their faces. David stayed; he wasn't eager for a fight, for once.

"I'll see you later then, I guess." He told me.

"Sure," I tried not to sound too keen, but he heard the eagerness in my voice and laughed.

He ruffled my hair. "Bye,"

I blushed and waved, all too aware of the other motorcycle's proximity. Once David was out of sight, I flung myself onto my bike and started the engine, wondering how fast this thing could _actually _go. Michael would never be able to catch me on my Harley. Not that he would bother trying. But that didn't mean that I couldn't have some fun . . . and what's the point of getting a fast bike if you don't ever go fast on it, anyway?

**I have a rough idea of what to do for the next chapter, but my mind is strangely blank . . . so if I don't update within the week, then I'm sorry! (But hopefully my head will start working properly again soon) (:**


	11. Vampires in Santa Carla? NO WAY!

**Hey guys - the update came sooner than I thought! It seems my head wasn't so empty after all . . . **

**But anyway. There's not much in this chapter, but I thought we could all do with a little bit more interaction between Becca and David. I hope you guys agree!**

**Review? :)**

_Tap, tap. Tap, tap._

Shut up.

_Tap, tap. Tap, tap._

Shut up!

_Tap, tap – _for the love of all things holy _shut the hell up_!

I growled in irritation and leaped out of bed. As soon as I moved, the noise stopped. It'd sounded like something being thrown at glass. I flung open my curtains, preparing to jump down and punch whatever stupid little prick was throwing stuff at my window.

Through the darkness, I heard a voice. I recognized it at once. "Becca! Becca, it's me, open up!"

I scowled into the darkness. Waking me up at one am in the morning is not a good idea if you want me to be nice. "Where art thou, Romeo?" I quoted sarcastically. "Where art thou so I can give thou a good wallop in the face?"

David laughed annoyingly. "Finally, you're awake – I was afraid that if you snored any louder the house might fall down."

"Piss off. I don't snore."

I was about to shut the curtains again, when he threw another pebble at my window. It was very hard to restrain myself from breaking something.

"What do you want? I'm tired, go away!" I hissed angrily.

"Let me in,"

"Sorry, no can do. I'm not allowed to have men in my room at night."

"Becca, I'm not joking! Let me in."

I was about to walk away when there was a thud on the glass – too loud to be a pebble. I wrenched the curtains back to yell at him. My heart stopped when I saw his face inches from mine through the glass. He was balanced precariously on the window ledge, very close to falling and breaking his neck, and although it seemed like a good idea right now I would probably regret not letting him in later. I opened the window and pulled him in by his coat.

"Thanks," he told me, as if it was completely normal for him to appear at my window for a midnight visit.

"Don't thank me. I'm about to kick your ass."

"Alright, I take it back." He smirked. "But it's nice to know that you're glad to see me."

I scowled at him, thinking about how much it'd hurt if I punched him in the soft spot. He didn't seem fazed by my threat to beat him up.

"What do you want?" I repeated, glaring at him harder.

"Just wanted to see you, that's all. Our reunion was cut short by your brother earlier, and I wanted to make up for the lost time."

I didn't laugh. "Well you've made up for it, so you can go now. I'm trying to sleep normal hours, here, for the sake of my beloved family, and you're not helping one bit."

"Your 'normal hours' are different from theirs'."

"I don't care. Get out!"

"Not yet." The smirk grew bigger. "You'll be begging for me to stay, if you give me a chance."

"Well I'm not giving you a chance, so I'm afraid we'll never find out."

I pushed against his chest, but he wouldn't budge. He caught my wrist in his hands and wrapped my struggling body in his arms, making my resolve to kick him out subside to nothing. I leaned my head against his chest.

"See, I told you so." He teased.

I didn't even bother thinking up a sarcastic retort this time. I smiled and breathed in his heavy scent. Perfectly content with just standing there forever, I let my lids slide close over my tired eyes.

He caught me just as I started to fall. "Maybe you're more tired than I guessed," his voice was incredulous, and my body found just enough strength to blush.

"I told you so." I cited.

He laughed and towed me over to my bed where I collapsed onto the mattress, pulling him with me so that he was leaning on top of me. Our faces were inches apart. I couldn't help but be reminded of our last kiss, when I'd hit him. It had been the best moment of my life, right in the middle of the worst day of my life.

"Your eyes are so blue," I mused. "They're like crystals. I've always loved them. They're so beautiful . . ."

He laughed, slightly nervous, and looked right into my eyes, so that I could see the blue perfectly. "You're not turning into a sap on me, are you?" He joked.

I could still hear the edginess in his voice as it faded.

It was strange; for the first time since I'd met him, he wasn't over-confident in himself. He was just as new to this as I was. It made me slightly smug to think that he'd never felt this way about anyone else before.

"I was just saying," I defended myself. "They _are _blue."

"Like crystals. And they're _so beautiful; _you've always loved them . . ."

"Shut up. Just because you're so cold and indifferent that you have no emotions," I accused.

"You don't know how right you are," he murmured against the hollow at the base of my throat.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that, two months ago, I _was _cold and indifferent towards most things. You were an exception to the rule, of course."

"Obviously. No one can deny my feminine charm." I muttered sarcastically.

"You're right; they can't."

He seemed serious enough, for once, as he gazed into my eyes. There wasn't a trace of teasing in them. I stared back in awe, wondering how such an amazing person – vampire or not – could ever love me. _Me_, out of all the millions of other, more beautiful girls that would've taken him in without a second thought. _Me_, who was probably the most sarcastic and annoying person you could ever meet, who'd refused him so many times it was impossible. And yet, he _had _chosen me above all others. It was incredible.

"Why me?" I asked, almost inaudibly in the warm silence. "Why did you choose me?"

"Because . . ." it looked like he was thinking hard. "Well, I _didn't _choose you. I just knew that it _was _you, if you know what I mean. That it was meant to be."

I nodded seriously. "I suppose it's quite the same for me. But still . . . there are just so many other girls, who are so much better than me . . ."

"That's not true. The only thing they're better for is mealtimes."

"David!" I sat up, upset at having the affectionate moment ruined.

"It was just a joke!"

"It wasn't funny. You know I don't like to talk about that stuff."

He sighed. "Sorry."

I glared at him, but he seemed to mean it, so I dropped my scowl guiltily. He brushed the hair out of my face and gazed at me again. A ridiculously warm feeling bloomed in my chest, and I couldn't breathe. He pushed me gently back onto the bed again, positioning himself on top of me like before, so that our faces were only inches apart. My heart hammered loudly; the only thing I could hear besides his breathing. I still hadn't found my lungs yet.

He leaned carefully in, touching his lips to mine with a gentleness that I'd hardly ever seen in him. Electricity shot through my veins. My heart raced. I suddenly felt so attracted to him that I might burst. It wasn't like I wanted him – it was like I _needed_ him. Like if I didn't have him then there was no point in even living life out. From that one simple touch came a ferocious desire. I reached my hands up to twine in his hair, pulling his mouth to mine and kissing him roughly. He responded with equal enthusiasm. It was bliss – my own personal heaven. His lips were fierce and fiery, like angry flames scalding my mouth and neck. They kissed hungrily down my throat in an almost violent passion.

"David," I gasped between kisses.

I couldn't think of anything but him. Not even Lucy across the hall, who could walk in at any moment, or Michael, who would kill us both if he found us like this. Raw desire was there in our kisses, burning into both of us. I relished the fact that he seemed to want me as much as I wanted him – I didn't even know that was possible. The only thing I knew was that if someone took him away from me then life would have little reason to it at all. This was the closest to heaven I'd ever be. For a creature eternally damned to hell, then I thought that this wasn't bad going. Better than heaven, in fact. And I could live with that, as long as I had him.

And then there was a sharp pain in my neck. I cried out briefly, before it subsided into an awed sigh. The pain developed into an incredibly warm sensation that raced around my veins to the very tips of my fingers. I revelled in it, letting it take me over. An exhilarated moan escaped my lips.

And then it was gone.

I looked up, searching for David. He was sat a distance away from me on the end of my bed, gazing at me with a look of profound surprise on his face. I frowned, wondering why he'd left, and began to crawl over to him. But I stopped when he moved away from my advance.

"What . . . what did I do?" I asked, fighting back a sob. "Did I do something wrong? Don't you want to . . . want to go any further?"

He just shook his head. "Let me see your neck,"

I complied, tilting my head back so that my throat was exposed. His eyes widened as he gaped at it. I lifted my hand to feel my skin, and when I pulled it back to look at it my fingers were slick with blood.

"What –"

He shushed me. I let him move forwards and examine my neck for a moment. When I saw his face next, he was wearing an expression of surprise mingled with worry.

"I . . . I _bit _you," he said in disbelief.

"What do you mean?"

"I bit you." He repeated.

"You bit me? Why?"

He shook his head in amazement. "I don't know. It wasn't like feeding – you didn't taste like humans. I just . . . I don't know." he looked at me, as if worried he'd upset me. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. It felt . . . weird, but in a good way."

"Really?"

I nodded. "Can you do it again?"

"I don't know." he frowned. "It was a spur of the moment kind of thing. But . . . doesn't it hurt? You're bleeding."

"No. It'll heal soon, anyway."

He continued looking at me in amazement, as if he'd just discovered that I was an alien or something. I touched my neck again. There was a lot of blood there; it had been a deep bite.

I stood up, and he followed. "What are you doing?"

"Getting something to wipe up the blood. I don't want it on my sheets."

"Oh," was all he said.

After I'd mopped up my neck and had staunched the flow, I wandered back to where David was sat on my bed. He welcomed me into his arms. I rested my head on his shoulder, pondering what had occurred.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, I'm fine. I've told you that a million times." I said offhandedly. "Anyway, I can already feel it starting to heal."

He didn't say anything. We sat there for what felt like hours, me staying motionless while he stroked and kissed my hair.

After a while, he stood up. "I've got to go," he said.

I frowned. "Why?"

He looked at me, and smirked slightly. "Because the sun's going to come up. Are you sure you're not trying to kill me?"

"But it only hurts us a little bit. I can go out in the sun."

"Yes," he explained patiently, "but you're only a half-vampire."

"So what would happen if you went into the sun? Would you –"

"Die? Yes, I would. Annoying, isn't it?" he added sarcastically.

I shuddered. "You better go then. As funny as it seems that you can't go out in the sunlight, I don't want to find you as a pile of charred ashes on my doorstep."

"How nice of you,"

I grinned. "It comes naturally."

He smirked again and took me into his arms. I looked up, and he tilted my chin slightly so that he could kiss me. Electricity flooded my veins like before, but it was muted – unlike the pure static I'd felt last time.

"Come back soon," I whispered.

The smirk was still in place. "Tonight, I will. Maybe if you run on a different schedule . . . ?" he trailed off suggestively.

"Maybe. We'll see . . . it is definitely much more comfortable. Although it doesn't kill me, the sun is freaking annoying."

He chuckled. "Bye, Becca."

"Bye,"

He kissed me one last time, before opening my window and leaping out into the morning. I sighed, already missing him. It was plainly obvious that an attachment this strong to somebody was unhealthy.

* * *

><p>Darkness took forever to arrive in the perpetually long daylight. I dreaded how it was going to be in the summer, when the hours of darkness were so minimal it was like they barely existed. But right now, I was just glad that night enfolded Santa Carla in its deadly embrace.<p>

I had left a note to Lucy on the kitchen counter, letting her know that I was going out. I then grabbed my keys and headed to the garage to fetch my Harley-Davidson FXR and tow it out onto the drive. It started up as smoothly as before, bringing up a slow smile that spread across my face.

I reached the boardwalk in hardly any time at all. Assuming that he was actually coming here, it would probably take him about an hour to arrive. So I spent the time on a trip to the comic store.

It was a pretty depressing place; poorly lit, with stony-faced people sat in the corner reading Batman. I scanned the comics, not looking for anything in particular. I'd just flicked through what I thought could be a present for Sam when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

"Are you going to buy that?" a deep male voice said.

"No. I'm just looking."

I put the comic back where I'd got it from, and turned to face the speaker. He was of average height and build, with blond hair and a red bandana tied around his head. His expression made it clear that he didn't like people pre-reading his comics.

"I'm Rebecca," I said offering my hand.

He took it slowly. "I'm Edgar Frog, and the guy over there –" he pointed to a tall dark haired boy "– is my brother, Alan."

Just then, the dark-haired one looked around and saw him pointing. He approached us with the same expression as his brother; bored, slightly annoyed, and wary.

"Hey," I waved to him. "I'm Rebecca. You probably know Sam, my brother –"  
>"Sam Emerson?" the brothers chorused, giving each other a strange look.<p>

"Yeah. He comes in here a lot."

"He does," Edgar agreed. "Well, seeing as you're his sister, you can have a free comic."

He plucked a book from the shelves and handed it to me.

"Uh, you don't need to do that, honestly." I said. "I've got enough comics at home."

"Think of it more as a survival manual,"

"What do you mean?" I asked, noticing for the first time the title of the comic: _vampires everywhere_.

I almost laughed. "Oh, guys, I've got enough horror comics already. I think I'm alright for now."

"But you might want this one. I heard there was something strange up with your brother . . ."

And something even stranger up with me. "Look, guys, I don't believe in all this supernatural stuff. Santa Carla may be weird, but not weird enough to get me hooked in all this."

"Well then, it's you funeral." Alan shrugged.

But Edgar was persistent. "We look like regular comic sellers, don't we?" he asked.

"Well, I don't know about 'regular', but seeing as you _do _sell comics . . ."

"We're not. We're vampire hunters. Santa Carla's crawling with them; your brother is one of them."

"Whatever, guys."

"We're serious!" said Alan. "We're fighters for freedom, justice, and the American way."

I snorted. "Sure. I don't want to know what you guys are on, but just don't offer me any, okay?"

"Your brother made the same mistake." Said Edgar gravely.

"He took magic mushrooms?"

"No. He didn't believe us either, until your other brother got turned into one."

"Into a magic mushroom?"

"Into a vampire."

I sighed. "You guys need help, alright? Just . . . try and stay away from your delusions for a while. It might help."

"Just take this," Edgar handed me the comic, "and we won't bother you again."

"Oh, well, in that case . . ." I took the comic.

A moment later, I felt a tingling on my back. I was about to turn round, when someone spoke.

"Becca!" an all-too-familiar voice said.

I smiled in delight. "Hey, David."

When I turned round he was stood just outside the store, smirking at me. I felt a rush of adoration sweep through me. But the moment was broken by a deep and very angry voice.

"You need something?" said Edgar, glaring at David.

"Just my girl," he replied, smirking even more.

There were laughs from behind him. I saw Marko poke his head around the corner and grin at me, flashing all his teeth. I smiled and waved.

"Hey, Marko."

Alan turned on me. "You know them?" he asked.

"Sure. That's probably why I was talking to them."

David momentarily forgotten, the Frog brothers glanced at each other with knowing looks on their faces. A moment later, Edgar spoke.

"Should we tell her?" he asked his brother.

"I think we should."

"Okay, then." he turned to me. "You know what I said about Santa Carla being inhabited by vampires?"

"Yes. Unfortunately I haven't forgotten."

"Well . . . they're the vampires."

I wondered where they got such knowledge from. "_Really?_" I pretended to be shocked.

Edgar looked pleased at my 'surprise'. "They can't come in here, though. Not without permission. You're safe."

David looked like he was about to crack up. I felt the same. "Well guys, I guess I should be thankful, then, shouldn't I? Seeing as you've warned me about these terrifying vampires."

They scowled at my sarcasm. "You'll regret not believing us, someday. When you're dead."

"I'll bear that in mind."

And I walked out of the shop, right into David's arms. "Just don't kill them, alright?" I murmured sarcastically into his ear.

"Want me to leave them for you?"

I laughed in spite of myself. "I think I do."

He smirked. "Much better." He approved.

"You got your bike again?" asked Paul eagerly, coming round to punch me lightly on the arm.

"Sure."

"Can I take it for a ride?"

"When I want it ruined I'll take it to the scrap yard, Paul." I teased.

"Hey! I can ride better than you can."

I narrowed my eyes. "Yeah? How much do you want to bet on that?"

His eyes lit up. "Is this a challenge?"

"Maybe." I said. "A race to the cave?"

"You're on."

**I'm not sure what to do next - but I'll think of something! I just hope I'm not boring you with useless babble. **


	12. I'm not leaving

**Hey. I'm pretty sure that I know where I'm headed with this, so that's why this chapter came up so soon. ****Thank you to all my reviewers, you're awesome, guys ;)**

**Anyway, here it is:**

"No hard feelings, Paul?"

He glared at me. "Beaten by a girl," he muttered.

I threw back my head and laughed exuberantly. I was nestled in David's lap, his arms slung carelessly around me. The comic store incident was all but forgotten – at least, none of us mentioned it.

"You're in a good mood today," David noted.

"Yes, I am, please don't spoil it."

He smiled and stroked my hair. I saw Paul turn round and make a gagging sound, pretending to throw up over the edge of the couch. I poked my tongue out at him. He just smirked as if he were purposefully trying to annoy me. I wouldn't have been surprised if he was, though – it had been an easy ride; my bike had beaten Paul's effortlessly, much to his disappointment. He'd tried to convince me to let him ride it to make up for beating him. Of course, I refused.

There was one thing, though, that made me uncomfortable. And that was the fact that Star was there. She lingered in the background with Laddie, watching us all laugh and talk and argue. Every so often she opened her mouth like she was about to say something, but closed it straight away and went back to hiding in the shadows. No one but me seemed to pay her any attention. I'd said hello to her when we got back to the cave, but she'd merely nodded in acknowledgement.

"I should be getting back soon," I said, yawning.

"Shall I go with you?" asked David.

"Not if you don't want to. I'll be alright."

"I'll come," he insisted.

Inside, I was glad. Any amount of time spent with him was worth it. So I waved goodbye to the others, even giving Star a half-hearted smile which went unreturned. I didn't mind, though.

As we walked out into the still night air together I was suddenly thankful for our privacy. Although it was nice to hang out with the others, alone time was also very much appreciated. David snaked his arm around my waist as we strolled over to my bike.

"Before you ask: no, you're not driving." I said as we climbed onto my Harley.

"I wasn't going to ask."

"Sure you weren't."

The engine started up smoothly and he wrapped his arms loosely around me. I let out a wild laugh as we sped across the sandy ground. David was silent for most of the journey, which surprised me. I felt tranquillity emanate from him, as if he too was just glad to be alone.

When we neared the drive, I pulled over. "Do you want to get off now? In case Michael sees you?"

"No. It could be entertaining."

I frowned, ignoring his teasing. "How are you going to get back?"

"I'll fly." He said as I pulled up to the house.

I almost fell of the bike. "You can _fly?_"

"Yes, of course I can." He said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh. Of course you can. Silly me."

I cut the engine. We hopped off the bike, David shadowing my footsteps with his hand on my back as if he were guiding me. I let him take me to the doorstep, where he leaned down and kissed me on the lips. I felt my heart race as I locked my arms around his neck.

And then the door opened.

A man walked out, tall and wearing a suit and bowtie. He had brown hair and glasses, and was looking at us in a way that made my heart thump even louder. His expression was shocked and, most of all, angry.

"David," he said in a tight voice.

I felt David stiffen beside me. I looked up, and was surprised to see him wearing the emotion I never thought I'd see on his face: fear. All of a sudden, I felt scared, too. If David was afraid, then that was a sure sign that I should be terrified.

But he placed himself in front of me, blocking me from the man's view. "Max," he acknowledged carefully.

And then it got even worse.

"Becky, is that you? Who's this?" Lucy's voice questioned from in front of David.

All I could think was: _crap. _But I said "Hi, Lucy. This is David."

She peered around him to look at me. I tried not to appear guilty, and looked her levelly in the eye. The tall guy smiled forcefully at Lucy and inclined his head to her.

"Well, Lucy, I'd better be going. Maybe tomorrow night we could try again."

Try again? "Oh, okay, Max. I'm so sorry about Sam earlier; he's not normally like this . . ."

"Don't worry, Lucy." Max smiled again.

He passed me then, giving David a strange look. I felt the sudden urge to block him from his sight.

"Anyway," I muttered darkly, "I'm going in. I'll see you later, David." I gave him a look that said: _you're telling me about this later._

He nodded. "Bye, Becca. Goodbye, Mrs. Emerson."

I didn't even feel the need to laugh at David being polite. He left before either Lucy or I could say a word, practically running down the driveway. I heard Max's car start up and speed away.

"Don't even ask," I told Lucy as I thought again of the look Max had given David.

A warning in my head screamed: _protect him. _I just hoped that, whoever this Max guy was, I wouldn't have to.

* * *

><p>To David, the night seemed darker than ever. The pale moon that hung above his head was ringed in a nimbus of black rainclouds, casting distorted and crooked shadows over the ground. His breathing was slightly irregular. No matter the comforting presence of the night, he was scared; he knew that someone was out there looking for him right now, someone that would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.<p>

There was a soft thud on the ground beside him. "Max," he said, keeping his tone neutral.

"You know why I'm here."

"Yes."

"And do you agree with what I want to do?"

"No."

Max heaved a sigh. "Well, that puts us in a difficult situation then, doesn't it?"

David didn't answer. He glared at the ground as Max sat next to him on the sand. "You can't kill her." He said finally.

"I will do what I must do to protect us."

"And how is killing her going to help?"

Max ignored the question. "I let you keep Paul when you turned him without my permission. I then let you keep Star and the boy, again when you turned them without my permission. I will not accept another one, too."

"You want the others to join. Michael, Lucy, and Sam. Why not her, too?"

"She's a liability. She will not kill."

David sneered. "What, and the others will?"

"They must. You need a mother."

"The only thing I need is _her!_" David stood up, anger breaking through his carefully constructed mask. "You can't take her away from me! I won't let you!"

Max rose wearily, giving him a withering look. "Why? Because you _love_ her?" he leered. "_Love,_ the thing that you have refused to believe in for so long. Why have you changed your ways, David? Love does not exist. You know that as well as I do."

"You don't know anything!" David yelled, clenching his fists. "You don't know me!"

"I know you better than you think I do. You're a monster, David, like the rest of us. She is not."

"If I asked her to, she'd kill."

"You don't seem so sure." Max frowned, and then sighed. "I understand, David. You will get over this soon, and then we can dispose of her."

David gritted his teeth. "You think you _understand? _You'll never understand!" he growled, eyes glinting black. "The only thing you've ever cared about is yourself. I know that now."

Max shrugged. "Either way, it doesn't matter. I will kill her. She is a threat to us all; I will not have us exposed because of your mistake." He turned away.

"You're a coward!" roared David. "You're so afraid of things you can't understand that you'll wipe them out before they have a chance!"

"Don't call me a coward!"

David felt something strike his face. Hot liquid rolled down his jaw, dripping to the sand. Max had disappeared. "You want to fight?" he snarled. "Well come out and be a man, Max! Or are you too scared?"

The response came from the sky. "She will die, David, before our secret can be exposed. You must accept that if you are to remain one of us."

David sucked in a sharp breathe, blinking back tears. It had been far too long since he'd cried.

* * *

><p>I waited for hours that night. But David didn't come, no matter how long I sat by my window listening for his voice through the darkness. It felt . . . wrong. He should've been there, waiting for me in my yard, laughing as I opened the window with eager anticipation. He should've let me know that he was okay.<p>

I waited there until morning. As soon as I'd seen the sun start to creep up over the hills, I knew he wasn't coming. I slept through the day, trying to pass the hours with unconsciousness. But the wrongness was there in my dreams. It was there in the uneven beat of my restless heart, in the tears that beaded up in my eyes when I thought of David.

When night came, I wasn't sure whether to go and find him or not, whether he wanted to see me. But in the end I decided I should go. I only realized things were worse than I'd feared when he didn't appear at the boardwalk, either. After waiting until midnight I set off for the cave.

It was still dark when I arrived at the entrance. I hesitated outside, unsure whether to go in. _Did _he want me there? What if he was avoiding me on purpose? I took a deep breath and walked inside. There was a fire burning in the brazier in the middle of the room when I entered.

"Becky!" Marko jumped up from the couch with a grin plastered on his face.

I looked around the room. Paul, Dwayne, Star, and Laddie were all there. David was not. "Marko, where's David?"

"What do you mean?"

I narrowed my eyes. He still had that stupid grin on his face. "You're not telling me something. What's wrong? Where is he?"

"Nothing's wrong. He's just out, that's all."

"Marko. Do I look stupid? I know you're lying."

"I'm not lying." He hadn't stopped smiling.

"Then what's wrong? You're my friend, please tell me!"

His grin wavered at that. "I told you, nothing's wrong. Come sit down."

I went and sat on the couch, opposite Paul and Dwayne. Marko sat next to me.

"Paul," I said, looking him in the eyes. He glanced away. "Paul, I want you to tell me what's going on."  
>He didn't answer. "Paul, you owe it to me! You almost killed me, I deserve to know."<p>

"Fine," he huffed, giving Marko and apologetic stare. "He's . . . well, we're not exactly sure where he is."

"What?"

"He was . . . _speaking _to someone. About . . . um, about you."

"About me? Who was he speaking to?"

"Paul, that's enough," warned Marko.

"Shut up, Marko. Paul, tell me."

He gave Marko another apologetic glance. "He was talking to another one of us. Our . . . our _master_, if you want. And he hasn't come back."

"And what does that mean?" I demanded, fighting to keep the rising hysteria out of my voice.

"It means that he doesn't really want to talk to us about it, in which case he'll be back in about an hour."

"What about the sun?"

"There's more than one cave around here, Becky."

"Right."

The room fell silent. Marko was glaring at Paul, who had suddenly taken a great interest in his feet. No one would meet my eyes. I tried to look to Paul for comfort, but he was too busy avoiding Marko's glower to notice.

After what felt like an eternity, footsteps echoed from the mouth of the cave. I rose and rushed forward.

"Becca," David's voice was surprised and slightly upset.

"What's the matter?" I demanded.

"Nothing."

"Don't even try that one, David. Paul's told me what you were doing."  
>He turned to glare at Paul, who blushed. "Guilty," he shrugged.<p>

"How much did he tell you?" he wouldn't meet my eyes.  
>"He said that you were speaking to the, uh, head vampire, I think. About me."<p>

He nodded, and looked away from me again. "What's the matter, David?" I begged.

He didn't answer. "Look at me!" I yelled, tears escaping my eyes.

Reluctantly, he turned to me. "What?" he asked.

"What did he say, David?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me! What –"

I cut off abruptly. When he'd turned his head, the firelight had illuminated a dark stain on his cheek. I knew that it was blood.

"What happened to you?" I whispered.

He raised his hand to the mark as if he'd forgotten about it. "Nothing."

"Stop saying that! Who hurt you? Are you alright?"

"It's already healed."

"Please," I begged him again, "speak to me."

"I am."

There was a shuffling noise at the back of the room. Paul had risen, glancing at Marko and Dwayne furtively.

"Um, Becky," he said, "we're . . . going to, uh, go."

"Where?" asked David.

"To the boardwalk," Marko chimed in. "We'll find somewhere else to sleep."

And they all herded out of the cave, followed by Star and Laddie. Dwayne smiled ruefully at me on his way out. I nodded at him, thankful that they'd given us some privacy.

"So," I said when David and I were alone. "What happened?"

"You don't want to know."

"Yes, I do. Because when I find out who did this to you, I'm going to rip them apart." I was surprised at the bitterness in my voice.

"You don't mean that."

"The hell I do!" I yelled again, trying not to sound like a whiney child. "You were talking to him about me, David, and I want to know what he said!"

"Fine," he snapped, glaring at me. "You asked for it: he wants to kill you. He doesn't think you'll be able to feed, so he's going to try and get rid of you."

I stopped abruptly. "Is that it?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I just thought that you were in danger." I babbled, relieved. "I thought that _you _were the one being threatened. Thank God I was wrong."

His eyes widened. "He wants to kill you and you're worried about _me_?"

"Of course."

"Don't you understand, Becca? You've got to leave. I'll try and stop him here, if I can, but I probably won't be able to. You'll have to go as soon as you can so he won't find you."

"What . . . what do you mean?" I asked, my voice sounding strangely numb.

"Go far away, somewhere that he won't ever look. If I manage to kill him, then I'll come and get you. But if I don't . . . then just keep yourself safe."

I suddenly realized what he was getting at. "If you think I'm leaving you, then you obviously don't know me as well as you should."

"You've got to go, Becca."

"No. Fuck off."

"Stop being awkward."

"No, _you _stop being awkward. I'm not going; I don't give a shit what you say." I growled.

"Please, Becca. It's the only way."

"No it's not. If I have to leave, then come with me!"

He sighed. "I've got to give you the best chance you've got at escaping. You don't know Max; he won't stop until he kills you."

I was about to swear at him again, when I noticed something. "Max?" I said.

"Yes. It's him. You saw him the other day; you don't want him near you."

"No. I don't want him near _you_." I was beginning to sound hysterical. Max was dangerous. In that instant I knew that there was _no way _David was going up against him alone.

"I'll be alright," I could hear the lie in his voice.

"No," I whispered. "Please. Don't take yourself away from me."

"I'll do whatever I have to do to keep you alive."

"You can't."

He sighed. "Becca," he took me into his arms.

I buried my face against his coat. I wasn't going to leave him, not if the devil came up from hell to make me. If I died and he was safe, I could go on. If I was alive, and he was dead . . . I couldn't even bear to think of it.

"Please," I begged.

He didn't answer. I felt myself being lifted off the floor. He carried me to the couch and set me on the pillows, sitting next to me. Tears rolled down my face and dripped onto my hands; I didn't even bother wiping them away.

"Oh, Becca!" he cried, watching me weep uncontrollably.

"W-what?" I stuttered.

"I hate seeing you like this."

"Don't look, then."

He growled. "I'm not going to let you cry over this. You're leaving, whether you like it or not, and you're doing it happily."

I was about to tell him that he'd be deluding himself trying, but his lips came down onto mine with staggering force, and I forgot what I was going to say. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back. It was fiercer than last time, much more forceful, and there was definitely more emotion to it.

I think that right then, he forgot about Max. Now was my time to persuade him that I should stay. "I'm not leaving, by the way." I said, pulling away for a second. "Just thought you'd like to know."

He didn't respond, which was a good sign. Although I wasn't sure whether that was because he was agreeing with me, or because he started kissing me the second after I'd closed my mouth.

We kissed and kissed for what must have been hours, but what felt like only minutes. I sighed and leaned back onto the couch, content.

"Do you really want to pass this all up?" I asked. "I mean, if we _both_ left, then we could have forever. Y'know, just . . . doing this."

He laughed. "I _am_ reconsidering."

"Good," I leaned in to kiss him again.

"But won't you get bored of me after a while?" he teased.

"Nope."

"You'll miss your family, though."

"Well . . . it's not like they'd be coming with me anyway, is it?"

He shrugged. "I suppose so."

"David?" I asked quietly after a few minutes.

"Yes?"

"I'm not leaving you anyway, so don't get your hopes up, but I'm curious; if it came down to it, _would _you sacrifice yourself to save me? If it meant you'd die?"

He looked into my eyes, icy blue into cinnamon, and right then I knew that he would.

**I hope you enjoyed it! Again, I apologize if this chapter was full of useless drabble. The action comes a bit later :P Review?**


	13. The end

**Hey guys. I'm debating whether or not to put the rating up on this story - you'll see why. Let me know!**

**So, here it is - I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

><p><em>"Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation."<em>

* * *

><p>"Of course I would. You'd do the same for me."<p>

"I know, but I just wanted to make sure." I explained, going a little red.

"Any other questions?" he asked teasingly.

"Yes . . . I wanted to know _why_."

"Why what?"

"Why did you keep me alive? And then, when Marko wanted to turn me, you wouldn't let him?"

He smiled wryly. "I didn't kill you –" I flinched at the word "– because I _did _want to turn you at first. And . . . I didn't really think your family would join us if I'd murdered you,"

"But why didn't you turn me afterwards? When you knew you wanted to keep me?"

"I don't know, really. I knew you'd hate it . . . and I didn't want to risk losing you that way." The explanation sounded genuine.

I tried to lighten the suddenly tense atmosphere. "Are you sure you're a vampire at all? When no one else is around, you're all soft. If only you were like this more often."

He glared at me, and I laughed. "See what I mean? You hate showing you're nicer side. I think it's kind of cute, actually."

His teeth gnashed together in aggravation. I chuckled again and ran my hand through his hair, which swept away his glower. He got that lustful look on his face that he got when he kissed me.

"Do you love me?" I whispered delicately.

"I don't see why I shouldn't."

"You're avoiding the question." I looked him levelly in the eye. "I want you to give me a straight answer; I want to hear the words come out of your mouth, so that I know they're true,"

"Of course they're true,"

"Will you say it?"

I traced his cheekbone with my fingers, watching him shudder slightly. I smiled. The affect I had on him was clear – although he was a vampire, he was much worse at hiding his emotions from me than I was from him.

"Please?" I put on my best puppy-eyes, and watched him cave.

"Fine – I love you."

"I love you too,"

I leaned in and placed a kiss on his cheek. I felt him stiffen in surprise, and then relax again. He hadn't expected that. When I pulled back I saw that he wore his trademark smirk on his lips, and I grinned, showing off all of my teeth. Beyond his teasing mask there was raw desire burning in his eyes, and I knew he wanted me as much as I wanted him. I was just better at repressing the urge.

"If I asked you to run away with me, would you?" I asked, my playful tone masking my real curiosity.

"Yes," his voice was certain and unembarrassed.

"Then . . . will you run away with me?"

He didn't bother answering. He brought his lips down to mine, and they were everything I remembered them to be – soft, slow, and wonderful, burning my skin wherever they touched. I tried to remember to keep my head, to not give in to the overwhelming feelings threatening to burst out of me. But my will crumbled to dust the moment his lips touched mine. It was much, much better than the first time, and the last few times. Without half of myself telling me to shove him away, telling me this was wrong, I could give myself up to him completely and wholly, without any boundaries. It was heaven on earth. In fact, I was sure that I could just about grow wings and fly off – not that I needed wings to fly, apparently, but the feeling was the same. I felt myself being lifted off the couch and lowered onto the bed.

David cupped my chin in his hand, his lips growing fiercer as they kissed mine. The other hand slid down my back, following my spine, and started tugging at my shirt. I didn't hold back. My blouse was off within seconds, followed by the rest of my clothes. I was slower with his, taking more time to remove the fabric than I would have liked. But I wanted the feeling to last. The feeling of pure joy and happiness that I'd only ever felt around him was more important to me than anything else right now, including the thought of him naked.

"Becca . . ." his voice was as fierce as his lips, and like me, I could tell he had let his walls fall down. He wasn't hiding behind a mask anymore.

His breathing was erratic as his mouth slowly moved down my neck. I pressed my lips against him gently, remembering only months ago when I would have thrown up at even the thought of it. A soft, gentle laugh drifted out of my mouth. He looked up, his crystal blue eyes gazing questioningly into my own.

"What?" he whispered, making my heart thud heavily in my chest.

"I was just thinking about the past," I murmured quietly, "when all of this was just a daydream."

"It was never just a daydream," he whispered back.

His lips continued their way down my body, filling me with such love and integrity that I couldn't help but be overwhelmed. I trembled slightly, out of happiness, and I felt his mouth curve into a smile against my waist. I flushed red. I seemed to lose track of time after that, lost in the passion of his kisses and the lust in his eyes.

And then I was enveloped in a sensation so maddeningly sweet I thought I might explode. My body responded to the sentiment enthusiastically, giving us both everything we each needed and wanted without hesitation.

A second too late, I realized that we were having sex. Something I'd dreamed about for so long was now happening to me, smothering me with such love and adoration it should've made my heart burst. Instead, my heart just seemed to grow bigger, feeding off the affection coming from both of us. This was heaven. This was love. Our bodies were moving in perfect synchronisation, connecting to each other in ways I never would have thought possible. He was everywhere all at once; the only thing that existed to me. I'd never felt this blissfully happy in my entire, short life. It felt like I'd been waiting my whole seventeen years just for this. Maybe I had. Either way, it didn't matter right now. I could've spent eternity in this peaceful, beautiful bubble of ecstasy. But I knew that, sooner or later, that bubble would have to burst.

When I woke the next morning, David was not there. I stretched and reached in the tangled sheets to find his warm body, but they were empty. My head swirled as I sat up too fast. Where was he?

"David?" I called, my voice high with panic.

I didn't know why I was so worried; after all, it wouldn't have been unexpected, and he had things to do. I scrambled out of the messy sheets and searched for my clothes. I saw them folded in a neat pile by my feet, with a slip of paper attached.

_Rebecca, _it read. _I left early to find the others and tell them about_ I frowned at the crossed out writing. _I left early so I could sort things out with everyone. I thought you might want to see your family and tell them goodbye, so I left that one for you. I'll find somewhere else to sleep today._

_Love, D._

My heart swelled. Last night _hadn't _been a dream. He was going to run away with me, just the two of us, leave everything behind. I couldn't believe my own luck. How could I possibly deserve everything I wanted? I didn't believe someone could have it so good.

And then I felt guilty.

This may be everything _I _wanted, but was it everything that David wanted? He would have to give up his brothers, his family, all for me. Could I do that to him? I wouldn't have to, of course, if they came with us. But I knew they wouldn't want to. Not if we moved somewhere remote and isolated where Max wouldn't find us.

I sighed. It was complicated, but we'd find a way around it. Somehow. I could trust Michael to take care of my family, and I could trust Marko, Paul and Dwayne to keep themselves out of trouble. It would be alright, in the end.

I hopped out of the bed and got dressed. I was slightly surprised to find that there were two bite marks on my neck, which were both almost completely healed by now. When I'd got out of the cave, I suddenly wished I'd brought my sunglasses. The sun was brighter than ever today, and it stung my eyes, making them water. I found my bike where I'd left it last night and started it up. The black metal was scorching against my skin. Stupid me for leaving it in the sun, I thought.

"Michael?" I called when I got home.

I figured it would be best to tell him first, seeing as I could tell him the real reason I was leaving. He would be pissed – okay_ a lot _more than just pissed – but I could just about handle him.

He stuck his head around the door. "Yeah?"

"I've got to have a family chat with you."

His eyes narrowed. "What's happened?"

"Uh, nothing, really. There's just something I think you ought to know."

"Tell me," he ordered and led me outside, under the shade of a tree.

"Look, I don't know how to break this to you, but . . . I'm leaving."

"Where are you going? How long for?"

"Forever, possibly. I don't know where. But, you see, someone's after me and I don't think that it's really safe for me here anymore."

He caught on immediately. "He's coming with you, isn't he? He's gotten you into danger and now he's taking you away from your family!" his voice was almost a shout by now.

"Not exactly. Calm down. Yes, he_ is_ coming with me. It's to be expected, seeing as he's the only one that can keep me safe."

"No, Becca. _We _can keep you safe. Y'know, your family. Remember us? The people that you've all but forgotten these last few weeks."

I felt guilty. "I'm sorry, Mike. But I can't put you in danger like that; it has to me and David. Just don't kill him, alright?"  
>"No it doesn't. And I'm not going to promise you anything. If he's going to put your life at risk, then I'm going to do the same to him. I won't let him –"<p>

"He's _protecting _my life, don't you understand?" I was suddenly yelling. "I won't let you touch him. I'll leave early, if it means that you can't hurt him. You don't want that, do you? Or don't you even care about me leaving anymore?"

"I know I care hell of a lot more than he does!"

"He cares more about me than you know!" I screamed at him.

I turned away. I was leaving within the week, whether he liked it or not. David loved me. He loved me more than Michael did, more than Sam, or Lucy, or Grandpa. More than all of them put together.

The rest of the day passed dismally. I heard Michael drive off once, strangely in Grandpa's car, and I was glad that I didn't have to be near him. I sat on my bed, considering lots of places we could go, until the sun went down. He'd come for me. There was no point in going to the cave.

At exactly midnight, there was a sharp rap on my window. I grinned, all the negative emotions flowing out of me, as they always did when he was around. I opened the curtains to find him right outside the glass like before, and let him in. He immediately took me into his arms. Joy was emanating from him tangibly, and I knew at once that something had gone right.

"What did they say?" I asked him, smiling.

He grinned back. "Marko said he was coming with us whether we like it or not. Paul said he would as long as there was no sappy romance, and Dwayne said he wasn't going to let us leave them behind, because if we did he'd make our lives hell. Sound good to you?"

"It sounds . . . perfect." It was the truth. Things had turned out better than I had any right to hope.

"It does. And, if you want, you can persuade your family to move. Make up some story about why you're leaving, and maybe they'll come with you. I know Lucy wouldn't leave you."

I grimaced. "I've already screwed that one up,"

"How?"

"Michael," I sighed. "He is _not _happy. At all."

"Well he'll just have to put up with it, won't he, if he wants to see you?"

"That's what I told him." I laughed. "I swear, things just _can't _be this wonderful. It must be some sort of joke."

"I hope not,"

He leaned down to kiss me then, and I kissed him back eagerly. I wondered how I'd managed to live for sixteen years without him. He was my life now – there was no point in going on without him. I think that's why he decided to go with me, because he knew that I was better off dead than if I left him behind. We were like two halves of one whole, just in separate bodies.

"Are they glad they've got their cave back?" I whispered.

He laughed. "I think they are. I found them just after I left. They got back, you know, when you were still asleep. I stayed in another cave."

"Really? Where were they? And why didn't you come?"

"There's another part of the cave where we sleep. They wouldn't have seen you there, don't worry. But I didn't come because I knew I couldn't help waking you up. You still need to sleep, you know."

I frowned. "I wish I didn't."

He started to laugh, but cut off abruptly. "Something's wrong," he murmured.

"What do you mean?"

"Something's wrong," he repeated, going to look out the window. "I can tell. Marko . . ."

He closed his eyes for a second, and then they snapped open. "I've got to go."

"What! Why?" I was confused by his sudden change in attitude.

"I'll tell you when I get back," he said, and leaned down to kiss me one last time. "I love you."

And he leaped out the window into the night. "I love you too," I murmured, hoping that he could hear me.

* * *

><p>David could hear two people sobbing as he entered the cave. One of them was distinctly Paul, the loudest of them. But Paul never cried . . .<p>

"Paul?" he called, uneasy. "Dwayne? Marko?"

The weeping cut off for a second. "David?"

"Paul, what's wrong?"

He jumped into the air and soared to where the voices were coming from. Just as they came into his sight, the smell of blood filled his nostrils. And that's when he noticed Marko's body lying lifeless on the floor. His curly hair was strewn in a halo around his head, and his eyes were devoid of their usual impish gleam. Paul was crouched next to him on the floor. Dwayne was stood in the corner, tears running silently down his pained face.

He could not believe what he was seeing.

"No," David's voice was infused with harsh denial.

He could not be seeing this. It was a nightmare; Marko could not be dead.

"_NO!_" he roared again, kicking at the stone wall with enough force to break off a piece.

He felt his teeth elongate into fangs, and he felt bloodlust rise in his system. He was going to kill whoever did this to his brother. He was going to make them suffer. He was going to torture them until they begged and pleaded for death, but he would not give it to them. He was going to make them endure as much pain as they'd put him through before he finally ended them.

"Who did this?" he growled almost inaudibly in the pained silence.

When Paul looked up, his eyes were golden, but streaked with tears. "The boy," he rasped. "Sam Emerson. Him and his friends, the Frog brothers."

David's heart stopped. Becca's brother? No. _No._

"We'll kill them," Dwayne growled. "We'll go tonight."

David's voice sounded hollow when he spoke. "No. Not tonight. Becca can't be there. Tomorrow night, and then we'll leave before she can find out."

Paul whimpered. "Marko,"

"We'll get our revenge, Paul."

He bent down next to his dead brother and cupped his face in his hand. He would never see the night again . . . poor, poor Marko. A single tear slid down David's face and onto his brother.

For once, the darkness didn't seem so welcoming to him anymore.

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><p>Where was he? He had been gone all night, and all day. Everything was strangely quiet without David around. Even Michael and Sam were silent for once, in and out of the house all time as they were. The atmosphere felt strangely tense, as if the world was waiting for something. I didn't like it.<p>

I told myself that I would wait until night fell to go to the cave. If something was wrong, I should know about it. So when the sun did finally disappear over the distant hills, I ran out to get my bike, and headed off without a second thought.

It took what felt like hours to get to the cave.

"David?" I called into the oddly hostile cavern. "Marko? Paul? Dwayne?"

Where were they? I walked inside, my footsteps seemingly loud in the eerie silence. But there was no one to be found. I searched for an hour before I gave up; my throat was hoarse from the hundreds of times I'd called for them.

I jumped in fright when I started up my bike – even its smooth rumble was enough to scare me. Why was I so tense? I felt like I was on the edge.

I drove home in absolute silence, with my face screwed up into a frown. I couldn't help but think something was wrong – terribly wrong. I tried to ignore the strange feeling of premonition that lurked in the back of my mind. It was so unnerving that the flutter of bats that flew out in front of my Harley made me scream in fright.

When I arrived back at the house, the first thing I did was call Michael's name. I needed to know someone was there. I needed someone that could comfort me, even if it was only slightly.

I walked in through the door. My heart was the only thing I could hear in the deadly silence, and then –

An agonized scream shattered the night, and I was running. The sense of forewarning I'd had before now burst to the surface as soon as I heard the shriek. I skidded to a halt when I saw Michael hunched over on the floor.

"Mike!" I gasped. "What –"

Then I heard another scream – this time, it was my own.

David lay on the other side of the room, antlers through his chest, smoke winding up into the air. His eyelids fluttered gently as he focused on my still form. Pain – both physical and emotional – flashed across his beautiful face.

"_No!_" my voice sounded far away, like it was coming from somewhere else.

I stumbled forward until I reached David. He reached his hand up to my face, and I caught it in my own.

"No, no, no!" I sobbed. "David!"

It looked like he was about to smile, but then he faltered. "Becca . . ." he whispered. He tried to say something else, but then his head went slack.

It felt like a hole had been punched in my heart. No – it hurt worse than that. It felt like my whole chest was being ripped apart, piece by piece, layer by layer. It was so bad that my mind immediately shut down to block it out.

I felt myself space out. Darkness enveloped me in its tight grip, dragging me down, further and further, right down into its bottomless depths. I couldn't see anything. I struggled against the blackness, trying to find David's face, but I couldn't see it. My knees hit the floor, followed by the rest of my body.

I could still feel the soft touch of a hand in mine as I was pulled further under.

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><p>"I don't want to kill you," David hissed between his teeth. "Join us!"<p>

But Michael still struggled against his grip. "Never!"

"It's too late. My blood is in your veins,"

David almost laughed. It was Michael's fault that his brother was dead; he was suffering now. He didn't want to be like them.

"So . . . is . . . mine!"

A moment's hesitation was all Michael needed. He kicked his right foot into David's chest and hauled himself away from the pointed antlers behind him, twisting so that David was facing them instead. He didn't falter as he shoved his opponent into them.

David felt the antlers pierce his chest. They felt like red hot pokers, scalding his flesh. He let out a tortured shriek. All of a sudden, he felt his energy draining out of him, fading away.

And then someone spoke. "Mike," the voice said. "What –"

Becca, merely worried before, let out a scream similar to David's. He knew she was near him, and tried to reach her, but he couldn't move.

Footsteps rushed over to him. David managed to raise his hand, trying to touch her face, but she caught it in her palm and squeezed it tight.

"No, no, no!" she cried, her voice saturated with pain. "David!"

David tried to smile, to show her he was here, that she didn't need to worry. "Becca . . ." he could barely whisper. He was slipping away. No! He had to . . . he had to tell her . . . he had to tell her he loved her.

He opened his mouth again, but couldn't find the words. He had to tell her . . .

The last thing he was conscious of was Becca's comforting touch as he slipped away.

**Sniffle sniffle. I almost cried writing this - how sad is that?**

**But anyway. I was wondering if I should carry on with this story or not. Of course - I could leave it as it is, but that's just tragic. So if you want you can message me and tell me what you think, because I have quite a few ideas lurking in the back of my mind if I did carry it on . . .**

**Hope you liked it.**

**Review? ;)**


	14. AUTHOR'S NOTE

**The decision has been made – I am continuing the story!**

**But I've decided that I'm going to take a break from it for a while, so the next update may not come as soon as you think. But I've got a few ideas swimming around up here . . . so hopefully you won't be disappointed.**

**Sorry for you guys who was hoping this was another chapter. I'm being a bit of a hypocrite here :P**

**PS - Thank you to all the people who have spent their valuable time reading this and/or reviewing. I honestly appreciate it.**


	15. Awakening

**Hey guys. Finally an update - I know! But I haven't posted here for a while and probably won't do so as often because school is burying me in piles of homework, revision, more homework, etc. We all know the feeling.**

**Anyway this is the next chapter . . . I hope you like it!**

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><p><em>"True Love burns the brightest, but the brightest flames always leave the deepest scars."<em>

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><p>Moonlight bled through the trees to where I lay, curled up, on the ground. There were no stars tonight. The sky was merely a black empty void that echoed my own feelings with such careful precision it was chilling. But I wasn't afraid. No. I hated and I abhorred, but I did not fear. There was no room for that particular emotion in my severed heart.<p>

The heart that had endured so much pain it was almost unbreakable. _Almost. _I didn't realize how foolish it was to put all my faith into the world that had built me. It had, in the end, finally broken me. I was reborn again tonight. My name, only a forged disguise for my true self, was now meaningless to me. I had no name. I'd been stripped of love, of laughter, of life . . . so why not identity? After all, that was the only thing I had left. How much more fun it would be to take everything, all that I had, leaving me as nothing but an empty shell.

Because that's all I felt like. A mere twenty-four hours ago my life had been perfect . . . perfect to the point of impossible. I realized now that it _was_ impossible. Nobody could have that much without giving something I return. Well, I had given something in return – myself. I had been cheated.

_David, David, David . . . _his name played through my mind, teasing me, torturing me. It felt like the same antlers that had pierced his heart now pierced mine, over and over again, restlessly, eternally. Could he see me now, wherever he was? Did he feel sorry for me? And more importantly, did he still love me? The simple, hateful creature that I'd become.

I gasped, unable to fight the intolerable agony that was suffocating me. I clawed at my own chest in a desperate attempt to rid myself of the pain. The pain, the pain . . . so familiar and so detestable, something I'd experienced in short bouts here and there, when I'd had a lifeline to pull me back in. But now the waves of agony dragged me further and further under . . . no one was coming to save me . . . there was no lifeline to pull me through . . .

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><p>Exactly seven months, nineteen days and three hours later I was still not immune to the pain. Sure, I'd become used to it – sometimes it would even allow me a few days of relief, before plunging me back in to that eternal ocean of agony again. But it was always there. Tugging at the back of my mind, constantly threatening to break through the carefully-constructed walls I'd built to protect myself.<p>

So here I was.

Bitter wind blew my hair in bronze strands across my face. Sea air – salty, fresh – played across the sand, scattering it in all directions. I'd been to this beach far too many times. In the last seven months, it was the only place that didn't bring back risky memories – risky, because they would hurt. It was also empty. Another advantage of this small, sandy bay.

I didn't have to pretend here.

It was cold today; unusual for Santa Carla, but wholly welcomed by me. The less stray people to have to see my pain. _Pain_ . . . a familiar companion, one I saw far too much these days. All because of one night . . . one stupid, reckless, _agonizing _night. The one night that was enough to take away all I loved.

I shook my head. I mustn't be thinking these thoughts; hadn't I promised myself time and time again that I would never, _never _think of that night again, let alone think of _him_ . . .?

Rebecca. Rebecca Ford. I managed to call myself back before I could lose myself any more. Even the steady walls I'd built for myself weren't able to withstand thoughts like that.

A harsher breeze, one that bit into my skin, whipped at me from the south. I shoved my hands into my coat pockets and stood up. It was too cold to be outside on a day like this. So I made my way across the damp sand, slowly, tediously, and began climbing the sharp rocks at the base of the cliff. It normally took me about ten minutes to scale the precipice; five if I was in a rush. No one else knew of the small but secluded cave positioned at the top of the climb. It was the perfect hideout for me, seeing as my face was posted on flyers all around town. I didn't have a very striking appearance; copper hair, cinnamon eyes, a smattering of freckles across my nose . . . nothing too memorable. But I didn't want to take chances being caught. And I most certainly _did not _want to go back to the place I'd once known as home; back to the people I'd once known as family. Not even the devil could drag me back to that place.

My breathing was only slightly heavier than usual as I staggered into the fissure carved in the rock face. It had taken me days to find this cave; days of endless pain and fatigue, but it was worth it. Nowhere I'd been before, nowhere that would trigger memories, and certainly nowhere anyone would come looking for me. Perfect.

I settled down on my worn sleeping bag and rubbed my hands together. The piercing wind was only a howl outside the cavern entrance; it sounded like a lone wolf wallowing in its solitude, a mirror of me. But wallowing was not acceptable for me. Of course, there was no one around to see me doing it, but I knew that it was a waste of time. I had to pretend I had better things to do with my life than mope around. I had to lie to myself.

"You're not doing a very convincing job of it," I murmured to myself as I breathed on my numb fingers to warm them up.

I talked to myself everyday, generally; I hadn't spoken to anyone else for seven whole months, which may not seem like a long time, but it felt like forever. The only company I allowed myself was the flutter of bats roosting in the back corner of my little home.

My stomach rumbled, and I grimaced. Time for another 'food trip', as I called it; otherwise known as stealing. I hated these trips in particular, for a few reasons. The first; it was theft, and it went against my nature. The second; the store was outside the boardwalk. And the third; it was a very real possibility that I'd get caught.

But I had to eat, whether I liked it or not and, unfortunately, that was my only food source. I leaped off my sleeping bag and grabbed my pack from the floor, swinging it over my shoulder. The wind greeted me harshly as I skittered out of the cave. I descended the cliff slowly, procrastinating; something I often did when it came to stealing food. When I reached the bottom, I set off at a swift jog, trying to tell myself to just get it over with. I knew the boardwalk was about two miles away. It would take me the best part of twenty minutes to get there, and another twenty to get back. Hopefully it would be dark by the time I left; it would make it harder to recognize me.

I stopped walking when I was outside the store. It wasn't big; just a roadside convenience store that happened to be very easy to break into. It shut at seven, which meant that no one was in there now. I crept around the back to one of the windows. As usual, it was left open by an inch. The owners of this place must've been really trusting.

I dragged a trashcan under the window and used it to help crack the glass open a little more, so it was just wide enough for me to slip through. I hauled myself in, slipping to the floor with practiced stealth. It hadn't been so easy the first time.

A quick glance around told me that I was alone. Once confirming that, I grabbed as much canned soup and bottles of water as I could, stuffing them into the bag with unnecessary haste. I was always paranoid when doing this; maybe it was just because all the stealing I'd done had given me a guilty conscience.

I slinked through the window again as soon as I'd crammed as much food in as possible. My feet barely made a sound as I snuck along the sidewalk, checking my back the whole time. I wasn't the only criminal around here.

As soon as I was clear of the store, I let my guard down, my shoulders sagging with the released stress. But as I came to a certain part of the beach, I hesitated, suddenly unsure of why I was halted by the screams and yells of the boardwalk. Something felt . . . strangely familiar. I couldn't be sure why. I felt the bizarre urge to go and follow the shrieks, even though it was beyond stupid for me to go there. I couldn't risk being caught . . .

My legs told me otherwise. I strolled, oddly calm, to the boardwalk entrance, about a two minute walk away. I stopped when I got there, sitting down on one of the benches. People didn't even look as they passed. I should've been nervous, but I found I wasn't. I felt . . . kind of numb . . .

Uh-oh. That feeling was a warning sign; seven months ago, it'd been all I _could_ feel . . . amongst the bouts of pain, of course . . . they always came later. I couldn't afford to experience this here.

As soon as I'd recognized the sensation, I was greeted by a flash of headlights and the roar of a motorcycle. It pulled up not far from where I was sitting. In fact, I could've sworn it was the same place where I'd first seen _him . . ._

_Shut up, _I told myself as a sudden wave of déjà vu rolled through me.

"Are you lost?" a male voice asked.

I looked around. The biker was the only person besides me that was within hearing distance, so I figured he was speaking to me.

I stared at him as he dismounted the bike, grinning. He was not the person I'd been hoping for, the one who would never come. He had unruly black hair and the lines on his face told that he rarely ever went without smiling. I stared at him some more.

"No," I finally sighed, "I'm not lost." Well, at least, not in the way he meant.

"Oh," said the stranger, still smiling.

He continued to look at me for a minute. I scowled at him. "Do you need something?"

"No. You just look like you don't know where you're supposed to be, that's all."

"Well," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Thank you for your concern, but I'd best be heading home."

My head was starting to see sense; what if this man recognized me from the flyers? What if he called the police? I stood up and started walking briskly away.

"Town's the other way,"

I turned around to glare at the stranger. He was gesturing the opposite direction to which I was heading. Of course, he was right; but I didn't live in town.

"I live just outside of town," I declared.

It wasn't exactly a lie.

"Oh, Okay." He shrugged and glanced away.

I started a hurried walk away from the biker, hoping that he hadn't identified me. I knew that Lucy had put up a reward for anyone that found me . . .

Once I was out of his sight, I was running. I sprinted all the way back to the cave. By the time I'd climbed the precipice and sank down onto my sleeping bag, I was out of breath. What had gotten into me? How easy it would've been to blow my cover right there and then.

Ugh. Maybe I was crazy after all.

I sighed and snuggled into my sleeping bag, dropping my pack beside me and grabbing one of the few chocolate bars I'd managed to steal. I didn't taste it as I chewed. As long as my hunger was satiated, then it didn't matter what I was eating.

This night, like all other nights, was essentially sleepless. After a month I'd decided I wouldn't bother even _trying _to sink into unconsciousness. It never worked, anyway.

I stared at the stone ceiling until the sun began to creep through the narrow crack in the wall. Only then did my eyelids begin to flutter, and I was pulled into a restless sleep again. I did not dream. I hadn't dreamed in seven months. In a way, I was thankful; I had a pretty good idea of what my subconscious would throw at me if it was allowed free reign.

My imagination had always been far too good.

**Review? )**


	16. Back to where we were

**Hey, It's taken me forever to write this, but I hope it was worth it.**

**Anyway . . . enjoy!**

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><p><em>"If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever."<em>

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><p>A ray of sunlight across my face woke me. I sat up, blinking. Daylight did not affect me any more, since the head vampire had been destroyed. But that didn't mean that the sun didn't annoy me. As human as I was, I still susceptible to my earlier weaknesses . . . or most of them, anyway. The bloodlust had been absent for seven months now.<p>

I sighed as I thought of enduring another day. _Take it piece by piece, little by little . . . you're a survivor, you can't give in. _Or, at least, that's what I told myself. I'd come far too close to just giving up several times in the past few months.

I rolled out of my makeshift bed and stood up. Today, like everyday, I wondered what I could do to keep me distracted. I went to the beach sometimes; the crowded one, where I could people-watch. I never went to the boardwalk.

But maybe . . . maybe today was time for a change. I frowned. I'd never liked change.

But I decided that, whether I liked it or not, I would get out. Maybe I would even go as far as to _socialize. _Because I knew that _he _would want me to, wherever he was. Hewould want me to have a life . . . or at least _try _to have one.

So I sighed and stood up, groaning. I winced as I thought of what I was about to do. Adjusting to the fact that I might possibly be mentally unstable was hard. I was going back to the place that would bring up some of the worst memories. Not the absolute worst, but almost. My God, I was an idiot.

I snuck out into the daylight, trying to ignore my aching heart. It was bad enough that I had to go through all this torture, and yet, here I was, putting _myself _through it.

I shook my head as I stumbled down the steep incline. Two minutes later, I was angrily storming into the boardwalk. I was fuming. I hadn't been so angry at myself for . . . well, a long time. But I felt compelled to come here, by some sort of invisible force that liked the idea of me hating myself. Stupid world. Stupid people.

I sat on a bench and glared at anyone who passed me. Most of them ignored me or gave me weird looks, but I didn't care. At least I was doing _something, _which is better than doing _nothing. _Or so I tried to tell myself. I didn't think that _he _– I still couldn't bring myself to say the name – would want me to sit on a bench glaring at people. But what was I meant to do? Go on all the roller-coasters and scream and smile like a normal person? I'd be kidding myself trying.

But after an hour of freaking out innocent passers-by, I stood up stiffly, and walked out. Wow. No one had recognized me – my first stroke of good luck in seven months. Maybe life had a little compassion after all.

I walked past the beach, where there were countless families playing and messing around. A few people were out on the waves, surfing. I envied them. Wouldn't it be nice to just let go and have some fun for a change? I'd almost forgotten the meaning of _fun. _

I wandered past all the smiling citizens to a relatively empty part of the beach. There were a few parents there with kids, and only a couple of surfers, but not _too _many people. I could handle this. I settled down on the white-gold sand, and glared at the waves. I was able to tune out all the talking and laughing around me until it was just a quiet hum in my ears. Much better. Now I didn't have to smile and pretend to be happy, like everyone else. Only they didn't seem to be pretending.

I lay down on the sand, closing my eyes . . .

My quiet oblivion was interrupted by the padding of feet on sand. I opened my eyes and looked up into the deep blue irises of a black-haired man, who was grinning down at me.

Uh-oh. The guy from the boardwalk.

Had he recognized me? I pretended not to have noticed him walk up.

"Hey, you're the girl from the boardwalk, aren't you?"

I acted as if I hadn't heard him.

"You look a bit down." He sat next to me on the sand – I noticed he had a surfboard under his arm. "You're not very talkative, are you?"

When I still didn't answer, he fidgeted slightly. "Um, I'm Jay, by the way."

He offered his hand. I stared at it until he let it fall, disappointment on his face. I could tell he was uncomfortable. Good. It served him right for disturbing my quiet.

He sat there for a few more seconds, and then I snapped. "What do you want?"

He looked glad to have dragged a response out of me. "Oh. So you can speak."

"Clever. If you want me to rip your head off, then please carry on."

I was expecting him to look at me like I was unstable or run off – maybe both. But he grinned at me.

"It's gonna take a lot more than that to scare me off."

I blanched, and he rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know you want me to leave you alone. But I'm not that easy to get rid of."

I stared at him.

"Hey –" he said, eyes suddenly lighting up. "D'you want to go surfing?"

I snorted. "Fat chance,"

"Whatever." he said, shrugging. "Wanna go to the boardwalk, instead?"

I glared at him. Couldn't this guy just leave me alone? Was it really that hard for me to have a few minutes' peace?

"Can't you tell when you're not wanted?" I snapped, looking him right in the eyes.

"Yeah, I can. But I generally stick around anyway."

This guy was really starting to get on my nerves. I hadn't been this infuriated with someone else for a long, long time.

"So _that's _why your face is like that." I said, sarcastic. "From all the times people have hit you because you won't leave them alone."

Even if he was bad-looking, which, judging by his cocky attitude, he wasn't, he didn't look beautiful to me. Not when I'd seen the face that would put even the most successful male models to shame.

"Are you implying that I'm not hot?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as if that were an impossibility.

"No," I said. "I was implying that you're ugly."

"You must be very hard to please."

He didn't know how right he was. "No, but my standards are above 'hideous'. Sorry."

"Oh, well. I guess I should give up, then."

"Yes, you should."

"But I've never been much of a quitter, really."

I sat up and glared at him. "Can't you just _go away_?"

"Yes, I can. But I'm not going to."

"Then goodbye,"

I stood up and started to walk away. If I couldn't be left alone, then I was going to have to leave, even if it meant that I looked like a pushover. I didn't really care anymore.

"Wait!" he said, catching hold of my arm.

I tugged away. "What?"

"Do you want to go out sometime?"

"I don't date."

"Aw, come on!" he begged.

I sighed. This wasn't the first time this had happened. Men . . . Couldn't they see that I just _wasn't into them?_

"Look, I just told you, I don't date." I stared into his eyes, trying to make the message clear and simple. It was like talking to a three-year-old. "If you want to hook up with someone, there are plenty of other girls around. See her?" I pointed to a slim blonde who was looking our way with a jealous expression on her face. "She's totally into you. Go for it."

I faked a smile and walked away again. Finally, I thought, as I caught him eyeing the blonde with mild interest. I started up a steady jog before he could change his mind.

I slowed into a walk as I reached the end of the beach, running my hand through my shimmering hair. The sunlight cascaded from it, accentuating the radiant copper so it looked like a bronze waterfall pouring down the sides of my face. I twirled a strand of it around my finger and watched it glisten. It looked so pretty. I hadn't been able to appreciate much these last few months . . . It was a shame . . . there _were _other beautiful things on earth, not just _him. _They were only ugly in comparison.

I began the laborious climb up to the cave, grasping onto the rocks with my fingers. My hands were slick with sweat, as was the rest of my body, and I made a mental note to myself to pick up some clothes next time I went out. I felt horrible.

As soon as I entered the cave I fell down to the ground. I fumbled with my pack, grabbing a water bottle and chugging down the liquid to ease the ache in my throat.

"You live here?" said a voice from behind me.

I whipped around to face the entrance. The man from the boardwalk – Jay, I believe – was looking around the cave with a meekly fascinated expression on his face.

My cheeks glowed. "Get out!" I yelled, flinging my arm towards the opening as if it would expel him.

He raised his eyebrows. "I was just seeing where you were going, that's all. I didn't believe you when you said you lived out of town. But jeez," he rolled his eyes, and gestured at his sweaty clothes. "That's one _heck _of a climb. I'm dead on my feet."

My face was burning with anger and humiliation. "You really _will _be dead in a minute, if you don't get out _right now!" _

"Hey! At least let me have a drink, I'm thirsty."

I stood up and darted towards him. "Get _out!" _I yelled again. "Don't come back!"

He backed up, looking faintly startled.

"Never," I growled as I reached him, pointing my finger at his chest, "_never _tell anyone what you've seen here. I don't care what you're offered, or even if your life is threatened, you _will not _dare. Swear to it."

"Okay, okay! Jeez, calm down, I swear it, alright?"

"Now _go!" _I barked, shoving him back with as much force as I could.

He stumbled backwards.

"Just one drink?"

"_Go!"_

He gave me one she-must-be-crazy look before he started retreating down the cliff, stumbling as he went.

I stood and watched him go, my chest heaving with rage, my insides boiling with mortification, all because this man had discovered this place. I didn't want anyone to know what had happened to me. How I couldn't bear being around my family and went to fend for myself once again, in the streets. Or in a cave. It was all the same thing to me.

Once at the bottom he cast a single glance back at me, before lugging himself away down the beach, visibly drained of energy. My face was set into a hardened scowl.

As soon as he'd disappeared from view, I sank to the floor and put my face in my hands. The things I would do to keep all this a secret . . . I felt tears well up in my eyes and brim over, spilling down my face. I needed to get out of here. But where could I go? Certainly not back to the boardwalk.

There was only one place that sprang to mind. I jumped to my feet in one fluid movement, ran out the cave, and stumbled down the steep rock face. I found the swathe of seaweed that camouflaged a small hole in the cliff. Inside was my Harley – almost forgotten in the darkness – which I hadn't used in months.

I dragged it out with a brutal ferocity and climbed on. My hands were numb as I slowly released the clutch. Within seconds I was speeding along the narrow strip of sand and up to the road, one destination set firmly in my mind. The roads flew by. They soon faded into wild landscape, where the sand sprayed out around the wheels of the Harley as it tore across the ground.

Even though it had been seven months since I'd been there, I still knew the way perfectly, every twist and turn. I bit on my lip as the corroded metal fence came into view. It looked exactly the same as when I'd last seen it – and yet it looked so different at the same time. Dark, sinister . . . the warning signs suddenly seemed to be screaming at me to take notice of them. I didn't.

I rolled to a stop, and hopped off the bike. My eyes snapped to the sides of me; searching, I knew, for something that wasn't there. I walked slowly into the cave. The irregular pump of blood behind my ears was so loud that it blocked everything else out, even my heavy breathing. My muscles were tensed as if they were waiting for something.

There was a fluttering noise behind me.

I let out a sharp shriek and twirled round, my hand flying up to my mouth. A flurry of bats darted past me. I crouched to the ground and locked my arms around my head, screwing my eyes tight shut. A small whimper escaped my lips.

I sat there for a minute, waiting for my jagged heartbeat to slow. When I stood up I peeked through my lashes at the sight before me. A sharp stab of pain tore through my chest and I gasped, clutching at my torso, trying to squelch the hot agony that blazed through me.

It was a bad idea coming here.

The cave was illuminated by the fading sunlight outside. I could see the vague outline of the shabby couches, the stupid wheelchair that _he _used to sit in, the chandelier . . .

Another wave of pain rolled through my, rocking the steady walls I'd built for myself. Shit. I managed to gather myself together enough to keep them from falling down completely. I felt stupid. Was I _trying _to torture myself?

I staggered further in, proving my mental instability. Whispers of the past echoed around me . . . voices . . . laughter . . . all tormenting me . . . I took a deep breath and tried to block it all out. A prickling sensation ran over the surface of my skin. Another bout of laughter rang in my ears – louder than last time, not just a whisper. With a start, I realized it was my own.

I clutched the edge of the nearest couch. My body was literally shaking with humourless mirth, and a reasonable part of my mind raised its eyebrows at me. Why was I laughing? I must've been laughing at my own stupidity . . . that was most likely.

There was no lingering sense of his presence. How silly of me to think that in coming _here _I might be able to bring him back . . . nothing would. He was gone. _Forever._

No matter that everything was the same; the couches, the chairs, everything the way he left it. It didn't matter. They couldn't bring him back, not memories, nothing, not even me . . . because I had been left behind too, just like everything else.

I felt the floor against my knees, the back of the couch against my face. I tried to steady my breathing by concentrating on my pulse. _One, two three, thump, thump, thump . . . _I gulped. Right . . . stand up, Becca.

My legs obeyed shakily. I started walking mechanically back to the thin slit of light across the room, my only exit, when I saw a dark break in the wall to my right. I remembered that it was where _they _used to go to get food.

I began to move towards it, not hungry, but curious. I checked to make sure that my walls were firmly in place before I stepped through the hole.

It was so dark I could barely see anything. I could vaguely make out the outline of a few cabinets in the small space. I felt my way over to the nearest one, and opened it. A musty yet metallic odour came out, like the smell of old newspaper . . . and something else. I slid my hands into the open door and rummaged around inside. My fist closed around a cool wine bottle.

My blood ran as cold as the glass. The smell was blood . . . even my now-human nose could make out the rusty, cloying scent that had once been so delectable to me, but was now repugnant.

I suddenly realised that I had a choice.

There were no vampires in Santa Carla anymore. But . . . there could be. I pulled out the bottle and gazed at it, one half of me wanting to keep it clutched in my hand, the other wanting to throw it away.

Could I be the monster I once rejected? That wouldn't bring him back either. It would just prolong my time away from him – perhaps forever.

But it was so, so tempting. To be what he used to be, to live how he used to live . . . would my selfishness get in the way of what was right? Could I ignore the deaths I would cause, just as I'd done with _him? _

The honest answer: I didn't know. I hovered between the boundaries of morality and selfishness, dangerously close to falling into the latter option.

I cast a frantic glance around me, as if afraid someone was watching, and stuffed the bottle up my coat. This was a decision I'd have to set aside for the moment. The outcome of my choice would decide my entire fate; and also the fates of many other people. I couldn't escape the fact that I was weighing the options of strangers' lives and deaths in the palms of my hands.

My head was spinning as I stumbled out of the room. I had to get out of here; my mind was conveying the message in the increasing frequency of my heartbeat and laboured breathing. I threw a desperate glance back at the cave once outside. I felt numb . . . but at least I wasn't hurting. Yet.

I frantically climbed onto my bike, racing against the setting sun. How silly to think that I was scared of the dark; it had been the one thing I always waited for, before. Now it felt like it was trapping me.

My hands shook as I let go of the clutch too fast. The bike lurched forward and bucked under me – I flew off and hit the floor. There was a sickening _snap _in my right arm. I gasped when a hot streak of agony lanced up my wrist, and rolled over, clutching it to my chest.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid . . . _I told myself as I cried out in pain. My wrist must be broken.

I stood up shakily, and tested the movement in my arm. I winced when another flare of agony exploded in my limb. Ouch. Definitely broken. I'd have to go to the hospital . . . so much for lying low.

I staggered over to the bike, wondering how I was going to ride it with a broken wrist. Talk about a bad day. But the physical pain distracted me from the emotional, so at least I had a relatively clear head.

I managed to get my Harley off the floor and climb onto it, but I wasn't sure how to proceed from there, seeing as my arm had pretty much had it. Could I ride a motorcycle one-handed? Time to see if I could add to my small collection of skills.

I rode into the hospital worse off than I'd been in the first place. My wrist felt like it had been not only broken, but run over by a lorry, and then stuck in an oven at the same time. I stumbled into the reception area, my arm swollen and red.

The next few hours passed in a blur. I was on edge the whole time, waiting for one of the people fixing my arm to recognize me and take me to the cops. But no one did. I was dismissed from the hospital – with only a sprained wrist, luckily, although I could've sworn I'd heard a snap – at about midnight, and I hurriedly searched for the bottle of blood that I'd hidden in the bushes outside. I sighed with relief when I found it.

I climbed back onto my Harley, grimacing as I thought of the ride home . . . and the climb up the cliff. Nothing good had come of my visit to the cave.

I was just thinking about how much I wished I wouldn't have to ride my bike home when, ironically, it ran out of gas. I was only a three-minute walk away from the cave, but it was still inconvenient. I slid off it and kicked the shiny black metal in frustration.

"Stupid bike," I muttered, scowling.

A second later I heard raucous laughter from just around the corner. I paled slightly, recalling exactly the type of people who wandered these streets. I was above the cliff, now, looking out over the ocean. It was a downhill journey until I hit the beach. Would it really be that hard to just sit on the bike and roll down?

I looked back then, just as a group of men rounded the corner. They were still laughing. After a second of studying them, I realized they were drunk. Even worse.

I was just about to get on my Harley and roll away when they noticed me.

"Hey! You!" one of them called.

I stiffened. The others laughed again.

"You look lost, honey." The one who'd just spoke said again.

"No, my house is just around the corner." I lied as an attempt to put them off. I knew that there was a row of houses on the next street.

"Is that right?"

They were a few yards from me now, all watching me with amused expressions. I took a few steps back, my uninjured arm clutched tightly on my Harley.

"Anyway, I've got to go. Nice meeting you." I tried to make my voice sound casual and unafraid.

"You can stay for just a little longer," another spoke up.

"No, really, I've got to go."

"Wait a minute,"

The first speaker grabbed my shoulder as I began to turn away. I nudged the motorcycle stand with my foot, flipping out the metal bar so that it supported the bike. I then turned and faced the man.

"Let me go." I said, gritting my teeth so that fear couldn't seep into my voice.

"Come on, honey –"

He had just pulled me towards him when I struck out with my fist. It connected with his face, blood spurting from his nose in a fountain.

"You little bitch!" he snarled, clutching his face.

He reached out and grabbed a fistful of my hair. I gasped and kicked out with my foot, but missed. He laughed and pulled my face towards his.

"You know what happens to little girls who hit me, honey?" he growled smoothly into my ear.

I shook my head.

"No? Well I'm gonna show you. You're gonna have to keep quiet, though, if you don't want to die."

He pulled my hair tighter, tilting me head up and forcing me to look him in the eye.

"Can you stay quiet?" he asked.

His buddies all eyed me eagerly. "No," I murmured, staring him in the eyes and trying to look fearless.

He smiled. "Then I guess I'll just have to make you,"

There was a sudden, sharp click; I recognized it at once as the flick of a switchblade. He brought the blade up to my throat and pressed it against the flesh.

"Say hello to the Devil for me, honey."

I felt hot blood roll in beads down my neck as he pressed the knife harder. Just as he was about to slash it across my throat, I managed to thrust my elbow into his jaw, knocking him away.

His buddies came at me on cue, and I struck out at the nearest one with my foot. He was not able to dodge my blow fast enough – the alcohol had taken effect on him – and it hit him square in the groin.

He doubled over and swore loudly. Just as he lurched at me again, a single headlight flared around the corner, and a bike screeched to a stop next to me.

Oh, shit. Not another one.

But as the rider climbed off the bike, he pulled out a gun and pointed it at my attackers. In the sudden light, I saw what he looked like; dark curly hair, deep blue eyes. Jay.

"I suggest you leave this girl alone, boys, if you want to walk away from here alive." He said casually.

They backed away, eyeing the pistol in his hands fearfully.

"Come on," the one who appeared to be the leader said, glaring at me darkly.

Once they had disappeared round the corner, I turned on my rescuer. "Thanks . . . I guess. But I had it under control."

"Sure you did. But don't mention it," he said cheerfully, sliding the pistol into his coat pocket.

"You have a gun?"

"Nope." He grinned. "It's a fake. Useful, though, for these kinds of situations. Anyway, are you alright?"

I reached up and touched my neck; it was slick with blood. "Yeah, I think so."

He nodded. "Good. It's not deep, is it?"

"No. I'll survive."

"D'you want me to take you back to your . . . house?"

I smiled wryly. "My bike's out of gas. If you don't mind . . . ?"

"Sure,"

He walked over to my Harley and started to push it down the hill.

"If your arm's not too much of a trouble, you can ride my bike along the beach."

"Thanks."

I clambered onto the motorcycle with shaking arms, and started up the engine. My mind was reeling as I rode down the incline. I couldn't thank Jay enough for saving me; all my previous annoyance at him had evaporated. I would be dead by now if it weren't for him.

He reached the foot of the cliff five minutes after I did. I took my Harley from him wordlessly and pushed it through the canopy of seaweed, making sure it was concealed from view. He watched my progress with mild curiosity.

"You sure you're alright?"

I nodded.

"I didn't get your name . . . ?" It sounded like a question.

"Rebecca. Rebecca Ford."

"Right. Well, Becky . . ." he'd already picked up my nickname. "Do you want to go out sometime?"

"I don't date."

"I know." he shrugged. "I was just wondering. But it doesn't have to be like that, if you don't want it to be."

I tried to squelch the guilt in my chest. "Okay, then, as friends. Seeing as you saved me."

He grinned. "Excellent. Meet me here tomorrow, at nine."

And he hopped onto his bike, before speeding off along the sand. I stood there for a minute as I processed all that had just happened.

It took me twenty minutes to climb up to the cave, and by the time I fell into my sleeping bag my arm was already starting to hurt. The bleeding on my neck had almost stopped by now.

For once I sunk into unconsciousness swiftly. In five minutes, my eyelids had fluttered closed, and my breathing had steadied.

My last conscious thought was an overwhelming sense of gratitude.


	17. Impossibility

**Hey. So I've updated . . . finally. **

**I hope this chapter was worth the long hours sitting in front of my computer screen. Enjoy ;)**

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><p><em>"We say we love flowers, yet we pluck them. We say we love trees, yet we cut them down. And people still wonder why some are afraid when told they are loved."<em>

* * *

><p>I allowed myself an hour of preparation time that morning. I'd woken early, due to the fact that something unpleasant was coming up, and apparently my subconscious thought I needed to be ready for it.<p>

I changed out of the clothes I'd worn for a week – no need to look like a homeless person – and put on dark blue jeans and a cream sweater. My hair was, as usual, perfect and shimmering, despite the fact that I hadn't brushed it in forty-eight hours.

With a half-hour to go until nine o'clock, I sat against the wall contemplating the easiest way to make a break for it. Sprain my other arm? Go to the hospital in order to get stitches for my neck wound?

I sighed, and glanced at the jewel-encrusted wine bottle on the other side of the room. It was a surprise that I hadn't lost it last night.

All in all, I didn't feel too bad, considering that I'd been almost murdered last night. My wrist hurt, though. And it was a pain in the ass trying to climb down a cliff using only one arm. What was worse, however, was the sense of déjà vu that I realized when I thought of what I was going to do . . . unwillingly go out with someone who I had no intentions of feeling anything for. Sound familiar? I just hoped it wasn't as bad as last time, when I'd been mocked for my vegetarianism.

A small wave of pain rolled through me at the memory. I was able to ignore it, and continue washing off the dried blood on my neck.

The wound was worse than I'd thought. It hadn't scabbed over yet; the area around it was swollen and red, and it stung like hell. I just hoped that I wouldn't have to pay another visit to the hospital. I was sure that with all the risks I was taking, someone was bound to notice me sooner or later. There hadn't been too many people missing for quite a while in Santa Carla . . . seven months, in fact . . .

_Shut up, _I told myself.

I glanced at my watch, wincing when I saw that it was five to nine. Better go now, save being late. I stumbled down the cliff, keeping my injured arm tucked behind my back so I didn't fall on it again and hurt it even more. It sounded like something I would do.

At the bottom of the cliff, Jay was ready and waiting, a cheery smile on his face when he saw me.

"Becky," he grinned, waving at me.

I gave a half-hearted wave back. Oh, how I was going to hate today.

"Hi." I said, trying not to sound depressed. "So where are we going?"

"I don't know . . . but seeing as it's our first date, I think it should be somewhere special."

I didn't laugh at his joke. "This isn't a date; and if you try to make out that it is one more time, then it will be our last as well as our first."

He stopped smiling, but I could tell he was having a hard time to keep his face straight. "Yeah, yeah. So where d'you want to go?"

"I don't care."

"Aw, come on. Show a little enthusiasm."

I gave a sarcastic smile.

He rolled his eyes. "There's this cool restaurant downtown, we could go there –"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I hate eating out." I lied.

"Oh. Ok." He paused. "Well . . . we could go to the beach? I mean, I've got another surf board if you want me to teach you . . .?"

My interest rose. "Surfing? Sure."

I was sure that sports would keep me distracted for a while, and it left little room for doing much else.

"What about your arm?"

I shrugged. "It's only sprained. It'll be fine."

"Well then, let's go. I've got them in the back of the car. There's a really good beach for surfing, not far from here. It's quite packed, though . . ."

"Come on, then. I take it your car's parked up on the road."

He nodded, smiling, and started leading the way back up onto the street to his car. It was a sunny day in Santa Carla, and everyone was out celebrating the good weather. My mood plummeted, though, when I saw a swimwear store on the side of the road.

"Um, Jay, I haven't got anything to surf in."

He looked at me, and then understood. "Oh," he pulled over next to the store. "We'll get you something."

"I haven't got any money."

"I've got some cash on me, don't worry."

I tried not to feel guilty as we walked into the store. I picked the cheapest swimsuit there was, looking down and blushing when he rolled his eyes at the price tag.

"How about this one instead?" he said, gesturing to a skimpy bikini in a deep shade of pink.

"I think I'll pass on that."

He laughed and paid for my swimsuit. I changed in the public toilets outside and walked with Jay down to the beach, carrying one surfboard under my arm, him carrying the other. There were lots of people there, including surfers. The ocean looked warm but rough.

"You know, I have no idea how to do this, by the way." I said, eyeing the undulating waves doubtfully.

He laughed. "That's okay. It's what I'm here for – it beats paying for lessons, anyway."

"I guess you're right."

He grinned and gestured to the water's edge, now twenty yards away from us. "First things first . . ."

He grabbed the surfboard from under my arm and dropped it on the sand, pulling me over to it.

"Step on," he said. "That's it. Now . . . have you ever ridden a skateboard?"

"Yes."

"It's a bit like that. But first you need to know how to stand up. Right, lie down on the sand. Yes, that's it," he encouraged, in a tone that made me hope that I didn't look as stupid as I felt. "Now do a push-up, and when your arms are straight, pull your knees up to your stomach and hop onto your feet."

I did as he said.

"Perfect. Try that a few times, and get used to it before we go onto the water."

I practised the action for ten minutes, swinging my legs forward and then jumping up, mastering it in a couple of times.

"Can I try it on the water now?" I asked, looking at the blue waves wistfully.

"If you want, but be careful. It hurts when you fall off."

I nodded and grabbed the board. I set it down just away from the sand, trailing my fingertips through the cool water, pushing away gently.

"Now – jump onto your feet!" Jay yelled from the shore.

I pushed my arms up and dragged my feet in, jumping up and landing on the board with careful precision.

I let out an exuberant, "hah!" and grinned.

But just as my feet touched the surface of the board, it was wrenched out from under me and I toppled backwards. There was a horrible stinging sensation on my back as I hit the water. I spluttered and coughed and reached out for the board, which was floating a metre in front of me.

I heard laughing from behind me and blushed. I was sure that hadn't looked very graceful.

"I think the last bit could've been improved, but the first part was good. Not bad for your first go." Complemented Jay as I dragged myself onto the sand.

"Yeah, right." I muttered.

"No, really."

I sighed and positioned the board in the water again, laying myself flat on it, concentrating on the muscles in my body, the way that the sinews moved my bones.

_Push up, tuck feet in, and jump. _

I landed on my feet again and jerked my body in the opposite direction that the board was pulling me. The board stabilised and I found my balance, bending my knees and sticking my arms out to the sides of me.

_It's a bit like riding a skateboard._

I tilted forward a bit, shifting my centre of gravity to keep the board going ahead. It wobbled slightly but I managed to stop it from slipping out beneath my feet.

There were cheers from the beach. "Woo! Go Becky!"

I laughed outright this time, almost falling off the board. It was gliding along smoothly in the water and I nudged it slightly to the left, testing my control. It veered its intended course and I chuckled again.

There was a splash behind me, and I almost made the mistake of looking back.

_Keep it simple, _I reminded myself.

A huge guffaw greeted me from behind and Jay glided in next to me, stood steadily on his board. His deep blue eyes were alight with wonder as he stared out at the wide expanse of blue water stretched out in front of us.

"Brilliant!" he laughed as he watched me steady myself once more as a wave rolled in.

"I'm doing it!"

I saw him roll his eyes and shake his head at me. A larger wave span towards us and I veered sharply to the side as it hit, gliding smoothly up the body of water before it crashed down. I managed to stop myself from wobbling as it rocked the board.

"Oh my god, did you see that?" I yelled wildly, eyebrows raised in surprise at my own performance.

"Of course I did," he yelled back, "you almost fell off!"

"You're just jealous that you couldn't do that your first – second, even – time!"

He laughed and rode another wave as it rolled towards us. I twisted to the side again, but the board span the other way and I was thrown off into the breaking wave.

I felt something hard and solid hit my head, and I was pulled under.

"Becky? Becky!" Jay's voice sounded in my ear, still jovial but tinged with worry.

I blinked and stared up at him, realizing that I was on dry sand.

"Oh!" I gasped. "Am I alright?"

He raised his eyebrows. "I was about to ask you the same thing."

I paused for a moment, touching my head lightly. It throbbed slightly, but felt okay. "I'm fine,"

"Are you sure?"

I prodded my forehead again. "Yep. Best I've been in a long time."

My eyes widened when I realized how true that was. When was the last time I'd felt so good, excluding my injured head? "Can I try it again now?"

He laughed. "I think that's enough for one day. Are you trying to kill yourself?"

"No, but I don't really have to try. You're forgetting – I fell off my bike last night, then I was almost murdered, and now I've fallen off a surfboard."

"Good point. How's your arm?"

I moved it a little, and grimaced when I saw the dressing coated in sand. "It doesn't feel too bad, but this bandage is going to have to go. I've got some back . . . home."

He nodded. "Okay, then."

"So what are we going to do now?" I asked.

"Well, I was assuming you would want to go home. But if you're planning on something else . . . then I don't mind."

He gave me a sly look.

I rolled my eyes. "I see your annoyingness hasn't gone away yet. Maybe next time I shouldn't get my hopes up."

"Maybe." He agreed. "So – got any ideas? I'm all ears."

"How about . . . hmm . . . a race, if you're up for it.

"You've got a Harley. That's unfair."

"I'll take it easy on you . . . unless you're too scared . . . ?"

He glared at me. "No. I'll race you."

"I thought so. Do you have any fuel in your car? I haven't got any."

"Huh." He grinned. "I think I do . . . but you won't be able to win if you don't have any gas."

It was my turn to scowl this time.

"Joking! Yeah, you can have some. My tank's full."

"Thank you," I said sarcastically.

I leaped up off the sand, and closed my eyes when the world span in front of me. Jay nudged my arm.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just a sec,"

I peeked through my eyelids to find that the world had righted itself again. Jay waited for a second before leading me away from the beach, touching my shoulder as if afraid I might fall over. We made our way to the car, and he started the engine.

He refilled my Harley and told me he'd drop his car back home while he got his bike. He was back within ten minutes, which made me assume that he didn't live very far away.

"So, where are we racing to?" he asked, revving the accelerator.

I tapped my fingers on the Harley's shiny frame. "I don't know. Anywhere."

I kicked off then, speeding along the sand and, five minutes later, onto dry Santa Carla landscape. Jay was a little way behind me and was unable to catch up.

I laughed. "I'm falling asleep here! This isn't much of a race."

"What?" he yelled back.

"Never mind,"  
>I didn't pay attention to where I was going, but I knew that we were riding for over an hour. When Jay called to me and said that he was never going to beat me, I circled back around the edge of the cliff.<p>

Too late I caught sight of the corroded metal fence and knew where I was.

"Hey," said Jay, slowing down.

I panicked. "What are you doing? Come on!"

But his engine had already cut off. Unwillingly, I pulled over next to him, trying to squelch the rising hysteria in my system.

"Look at this, Becky. I think it's some sort of hideout."

"Yeah. Now let's go."

"I think we should check it out."

I glared at him. "Well I don't. Let's _go._"

"One minute. I want to see what's inside . . ." he trailed off, and began to descend the steps into the cave.

"No! Please. Come on, I don't like it."

He paused. "Why? I'll only be a minute."

He disappeared into the darkness.

A second later, his voice echoed up to me. "Becky! You won't believe what's down here. Come and have a look!"

I grimaced and slowly trudged into the cave. Jay was stood a few feet from me, eyeing the room with wonder, trailing his hands across the walls.

"Let's go now." I said darkly.

"Are you blind? Just _look _at this place!"

He continued to move towards the far side of the room, towards the couches. He moved past them to a dark corner.

"Hey!" he called. "Haha, check this out!"

He came from the shadows tugging along a wheelchair. A series of fiery emotions played through my chest – pain; anger and protectiveness.

"Don't touch that!" I growled.

He looked abashed. "Why not?"

"Don't _touch _it!"

I rushed over to Jay and tugged the wheelchair out of his hands. I felt like it should be left alone, as a sole reminder that _he _existed once, sometime, someplace, whether he was still here or not.

"What the hell; it's a wheelchair, it's not dangerous."

I pushed the chair back into its place in the dark corner and moved back quickly, afraid of contaminating it with a presence other than his.

"Let's go," I whispered.

Despite my words I sank into the couch with my head in my hands.

"What's the matter? Have you been here before?"

I didn't answer. I felt someone sit next to me on the pillows and tap my shoulder uncertainly. My automatic reaction was to shy away from his hand, and he didn't touch me again after that.

"You know, we really _should _be getting back now. But there isn't anything dangerous in here at all, I promise."

No, nothing dangerous. Not in that respect. The only thing in here that was dangerous was _him; _contaminating the memory of my fading lover, wiping him away, weakening his lingering touch.

"Yes. Let's go."

Suddenly I felt his hand by my thigh, and I saw him pulling something out of my pocket.

It was a wrinkled piece of paper.

I waited for a moment in agonizing silence, recognition flooding my veins like icy water.

"Who's '_D_'?" he finally asked, staring down at me. "And why did he want you to say goodbye to your parents?"

Even though the name had not been mentioned – thank God for that – I cringed away. "Give that back! He's no one. Don't mention my parents, don't mention _him!_"

He handed me the slip of paper. "Sorry. I didn't realize . . ."

I wondered why I hadn't noticed the letter in my pocket before. I marvelled it now, thinking of his warm hands flowing across the paper in his neat handwriting, scrawling the message that had given me such hope for the future. And thinking of the events preceding it . . .

I gasped and clutched at my chest where my heart was, trying to stop the pain.

"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly, clearly out of his comfort zone.

I didn't respond, and when I was silent for over five minutes, Jay spoke up quietly.

"Is he your boyfriend?"

I barked out one sharp, humourless laugh. "He was. Once upon a time. When things were perfect, when everything was right . . . nothing's right anymore . . . not when he's not here . . ."

He looked shocked at my outburst, obviously taken aback by my sudden trip to Crazyville. "What's his name?"

I shook my head, in pain again. I couldn't think the name; let alone _speak _it.

"Did he leave you?"

"No." My voice was quiet, strained.

"Did he . . . did he die?"

I flinched. "In a matter of speaking."

"Tell me about it . . . if you want to."

"It doesn't have a happy ending."

"I'm used to it."

I shook my head again. "I . . . can't. I'm sorry. It hurts."

He nodded once. "I understand." He paused, a speculative light in his eyes. "Did he used to come here?"

"Yes. You understand now."

"Did you . . . did you love him?"

"Yes," I whispered. "Very much."

"Did he love you?"

"I . . . think so. I _hope _so."

He sighed, and tilted my face up to look at him. "Do you think you'd be able to love again?"

I stared at him. "No."

He smiled wryly, and released my jaw. "I thought you'd say that. But we have time . . ."

I realized what he was getting at. "I don't . . . feel that way about you. I'm sorry."

"I understand that . . . but things will change. He'll fade. My father died when I was fifteen, and I managed to get over it. It's the same principle."

I nodded, not really believing him. "Maybe."

"You don't believe me."

I laughed bitterly. "No,"

"Someday you will. It's hard, I know. Just know that I'm here for you if you need anyone."  
>I was surprised at that; as I was surprised at how much I'd told him, bearing in mind that I'd only known him for mere days. He continued to look at me in a funny way, as if he were seeing me for the first time. Curious; fascinated; mildly shocked.<p>

"I always knew you were different from the other girls," he said abruptly.

"I've always been different."

"Me too." He smiled. "You don't have to be afraid to like me, you know. I'm not going to hurt you. You can rely on me."

"Sure."

"We should be going now."

I nodded and stood up, feeling empty . . . but there was something else there. I wasn't completely hollow. There was a spark of what might have been hope lingering very, very deep down in the bottom of my soul, and I relished it.

"You know, you're rather quiet today," I noted as I pulled my jacket tighter over my body.

"I've been thinking about what you said last night." He replied, blushing.

"And?"

"And I was thinking that, although you might not feel the same way about me . . . I think I do have feelings for you."

"More than friendship?"

"Yes."  
>I nodded. I'd been expecting that.<p>

"And you don't agree." He stated; it wasn't a question.

"I'm just sorry that I can't return your feelings. Really."

He rolled his eyes. "Me too."

I looked down, my cheeks filling with hot blood. I hoped he wouldn't see it in the dark. But the moon, although pale, shone brightly tonight, and I didn't doubt that he'd seen me blushing.

When I looked up again, I saw someone staring at me. I immediately skittered aside and let my hair fall over my face.

"Stop being paranoid. No one will recognize you – it's been months." Said Jay, and I could tell by his voice that he was rolling his eyes.

I'd told him the whole story last night – well, okay not the _whole _story. I'd told him that I was hiding from my family, and that no matter what, I couldn't be seen. He didn't know why.

"You're just far too careless!" I snapped back.

"You're still paranoid . . ."

I gave up after that.

He led me through throngs of people, careful not to bump into any of the rough-looking ones. I guessed he didn't want to have to pull out his fake gun again.

"Where are we going?" I asked, frustrated now.

"You'll see. I'm going to get you something."

"As in, _buy _me something?"

"Mm-hm."

Oh God. "Honestly, I may look poor, but I'm not. I can afford my own things."

"You have two pairs of clothes."

"So what? I'm being resourceful. Who needs a whole wardrobe, anyway?"

"Becky, I'm getting you something whether you like it or not. Live with it."

"Wait – no!" I pulled against his hold on my wrist when I saw a comic store looming into sight.

"What?"

"I – don't – like – comic – stores."

He frowned, still unused to my weird and random mood swings. "Becky, we're not going in the comic store. It's next to it."

"Can we go another way?" I begged, still tugging away from his grasp.

"Becky!" he pulled me towards him so that I had to look him in the face. "Calm down. Breathe. We're not going in the comic store."

I tried to slow down my frantic breathing, concentrating on nothing but his dark blue eyes.

Calm . . .

"Better?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Come on, then. I don't want you near that comic store if you're going to have a panic attack."

He pulled me through a door into a dimly-lit clothes store. A slim-fit leather jacket and combat boots were the first things to meet my eyes, and I had a hard time squelching my interest.

"Now – pick something. And don't make it the cheapest thing you can find, please."

"Sure." I agreed willingly.

I grabbed the leather jacket and boots without a second thought.

Jay smiled. "Much better," he approved.

I wandered around the store, grabbing a pair of dark leather pants when they caught my eye. Where was all this black coming from? I hadn't used to like these sorts of clothes before, but now my taste had considerably altered. Weird.

"Okay," I said, stuffing the items into Jay's arms. "Done. Now you can stop dissing my lack of clothes."

"I never diss your lack of clothes. I merely point out that homeless people look better than you do at times." He laughed and dodged my flying fist.

"Asshole," I muttered as he paid for my clothes.

"Why don't you put them on and then you can throw out those ones?" he suggested.

"Because these ones are perfectly fine, thank you very much."

He raised his eyebrow at me.

"Oh, fine then! Wait here."

I snatched the garments from his hands and stalked off to find a dark corner where I could change.

"Better?" I asked as I walked back into the store.

"Much,"

"Huh." I grumbled, scowling.

He took my old clothes and dumped them in the nearest trash can, managing to slip my hand into his while doing so. I didn't bother pulling away.

"So what now?" I asked.

"Whatever. You decide."

"You said that last time."

He shrugged, grinning. I rolled my eyes and laughed lightly, ignoring the fact that he was trying to tick me off.

"Well," I said, trying to sound nonchalant, "we haven't been surfing in a while . . . and I'm sure the waves won't be _too _cold . . ."

"No, not _too _cold . . . but enough to freeze your toes off. Are you mad?"

"No," I laughed, "just bored."

Just then I felt a familiar prickling sensation on the nape of my neck, and I turned out of instinct, my eyes falling upon something that shouldn't have existed.

Shouldn't have existed because he was dead.

"Becky?" I barely heard Jay's voice through the sound of my own heartbeat, which was rocketing out of control.

But nothing mattered right then. Nothing but the fact that _he _was stood in front of me . . . his icy blue eyes . . . his beautiful, beautiful blue eyes . . . I could not forget them.

I rushed forward just as he disappeared into the crowd.


	18. I can't forget

**Hey, guys. Here's the next chapter - I hope you like it!**

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><p><em>"Perhaps they are not stars, but rather openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy."<em>

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><p>It was impossible; it couldn't have been him. And yet, at the same time, it couldn't <em>not <em>have been him. It was a paradox. How could I forget those icy blue eyes? That ridiculous trench coat?

And the way he looked at me . . . he _knew _me. But if it was him, then he would still be alive. And that was not possible. I'd seen him die. I'd seen it with my own eyes, and I knew that it _could not _be him. But if it was . . .

I fought against the blossoming hope that was building up in my chest. It had been a long, long time since I'd felt that sort of hope. I'd taught myself that I had to resist it, because if I didn't, and it proved to be false, then it would crush me. And I couldn't afford to be crushed. Not when I'd spent endless months building up a bridge strong enough to hold me when I was on the edge.

"Becky?" repeated Jay, watching my face with mild concern.

I wondered what he saw there. Did he see a reflection of the internal war I was fighting? My continued denial of what must have been the truth, and yet couldn't possibly be?

"I'm . . . fine." I managed to choke out.

It was selfish to wish that it was him. Pure selfishness. Jay cared about me; I cared about him, too. But it was nothing, _nothing _compared to what I'd felt for _him_.

I forced my numb legs to carry on running forward anyway. I had to find him . . . but he was gone. I weaved in and out of the many people, searching, always searching, but he was lost.

I had to be crazy. I _must _be crazy.

But I didn't stop until my search led me out of the boardwalk and onto the beach. I sat there in the moonlight, forbidden tears following familiar paths down my face, forbidden thoughts running heedlessly around in my scattered brain.

Was this it, then? Had my mind finally snapped, been bent out of all proportions until there was no other choice but to break?

Jay found me an hour later.

"Becky! Becky where the _hell _have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you!"

I continued to sob as he crouched down next to me.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" worry saturated his voice.

"No," I moaned.

"Did you get lost?"

What a silly question. "No,"

"Then what's the matter?"

"It was _him! _It was _David! _I swear it was. He was just standing there, and he was looking at me, and then he disappeared . . . I'm going crazy! I must be going crazy . . ." the verbal waterfall cascaded from my mouth before I could stop it, and as I spoke the name, a stab of pain battered my chest.

"Whoa, Becky. You mean your . . . your boyfriend?"

I nodded miserably.

"But I thought he was . . . y'know . . . well . . ."

"I'm going crazy!" I moaned again, a fresh torrent of tears flooding from my eyes.

"No, Becky, you're not. What did he look like?"

I shook my head.

"Becky, tell me, and I might be able to remember seeing him or not."

I looked into his eyes, and began to whisper. "He had blond hair," my voice trembled, "and blue eyes. He wore a black trench coat. And he was so, so beautiful . . ."

I snapped my mouth shut before I could say anything else.

"Then I saw him, too." Mumbled Jay.

I looked up at him, unsure if my ears were playing up on me. Jay couldn't have seen him . . . because he was dead.

"Could it have been someone else? That looked like him?" he asked carefully.

I shook my head. "No. It was him. I couldn't forget . . . but how?"

He was alive. _He was alive._

Untainted joy surged through me, sudden and unexpected, and I felt like I could fly, fly up to the stars and never come back down again.

_Alive, alive, alive . . . _I chanted the words over in my head, willing them to be true. I couldn't be going crazy. Couldn't be, because if I was, then that was the end.

"You really saw him?" I asked Jay, not bothering to smother the surging happiness.

"Well . . . it might not have been. Hell, Becky, there are probably loads of guys that have blond hair and blue eyes and wear a black coat. I'm not saying that it was actually him . . . David, did you say?"

I flinched at the name, the sudden gush of happiness trickling out of me. _Might not have been . . . _but could have been. There was still hope. It didn't matter that I'd seen him die with my own eyes, it didn't matter, because he was alive, he had to be.

"He's alive . . ." I whispered, my eyes gleaming.

And Marko, Dwayne, and Paul . . . were they, too, alive? Just hiding . . . biding their time . . . waiting for the right moment to come back . . .

Why _hadn't _he come back?

He could've found me at any time . . . but he hadn't. Had he . . . had he moved on? Gotten over me? Let go of the love that had burned so bright and true, so fierce that it razed my heart when it was taken away from me?

No.

That couldn't be it. He had loved me . . . he'd said it outright, hadn't he? So it had to be true. Right?

I took a deep breath. _Don't let yourself hope, _I thought to myself. _Jay's right. There are so many people that probably look like him . . . _But it was hard to lie to myself. I think that in a crowd of a billion people I could have recognized him.

"Let's go," I mumbled, trying to hold on to the sudden happiness.

But it was slipping through the cracks in my heart. I squinted and tried to keep the oncoming tears at bay until I could get back home, where no one could see me.

"Okay. I'll give you a ride."

"No, it's fine. I'll walk." I insisted.

"Are you sure?" he looked at me like he was afraid I'd have a mental breakdown.

"Positive."

"Okay," he shrugged.

I nodded and, before he could say another word, sprinted down the beach with a fury burning inside of me. The tears flowed unstoppably now, and I was angry, so angry that I'd let my guard down and allowed myself to think of him. I didn't want to forget him, of course . . . but I couldn't possibly think of him. Enough to keep him preserved in my mind, but not enough to cause me pain . . . a very hard line to walk.

I was out on the road when I bumped into something hard and solid. The ground came rushing towards me and I landed on my hands and knees, wincing when a shard of agony lanced up my sprained wrist.

"_Becky?_" the memorable voice snapped me out of the pain.

I looked up into a familiar face, eyes widening in terror when I saw who it was. A series of blazing emotions played through my chest – fear; anger; and pain.

"Michael . . ." I choked out.

He gazed at me for a second, astonishment written all over his face.

And then he pulled me from the floor and into his arms.

"Becky! Jesus, Becky, we've been looking everywhere for you! Lucy'll have a fit. You won't believe how worried everyone's been!"

I shrugged away from his arms. The murderer of my lover was stood right in front of me, defenceless, exposed. What should I do? The pain and anger in my chest combined to make a blind rage that dominated everything else, and tinted my vision with red.

I drew back my arm . . . my fist snapped forward and collided with his face.

It was the second-best punch I'd thrown in my life. The cartilage in his nose exploded, a fountain of blood spewing out from the wound, a howl of pain escaping Michael's bloody lips.

I stood there for a minute like an injured animal, unable to run, unable to do anything. Just waiting for the next inevitable move.

We stared at each other like actors in a movie that had forgotten their next lines.

"So this is it, is it?" he asked, his face contorted in rage. "This is all you have for me after seven months?"

"You murdered him," I whispered, blinking back tears. "You killed him; I'll never forgive you, not if I live for a thousand years. Never."

"I didn't kill him, Becky."

For a second, I wanted to believe him. More than anything in the world, I wished that his words could be the truth.

He looked me in the eye. "_You_ did, Becky."

My mind went blank. "What are you talking about? I would never hurt him. You're lying!" my voice rose to a shriek.

"No, I'm not." He sounded sure of himself now. "You killed him, Becky. You murdered David."

I flinched, wanting to run away, wishing I had done when I was given the chance. Now it was too late. Pain kept me rooted to the spot, making me suffer even more, until it was almost unendurable.

"If you hadn't _loved _him, then he wouldn't have died. Don't blame me. Blame yourself."

"No. That's not true." My voice was strained.

"Yes it is."

"No! You're lying. You're just trying to make me feel guilty!"

"Whatever." He leered. "Don't accept it. You'll have to sometime."

"No. _No. _Leave me alone. Get away from me!"

I stumbled backwards away from his cruel words. He was lying. It wasn't my fault . . . it couldn't be. How could I live with myself if I'd killed _him?_ Michael watched my futile effort to escape with callous eyes, a cold smile playing upon his lips, taunting me.

My hands trembled as I half ran and half staggered back to my cave. My head span, a swirl of colours, blurs, dizzying spirals . . .

I gasped as my hand scraped against a rock. For a second the physical pain blocked out the mental, and its absence was all I could comprehend. I crawled into the cave, grasping my bloodied palm.

I fell into something hard and cold on the floor.

Something exploded.

Shattered glass littered the floor, and a rapidly spreading pool of dark liquid oozed across the stone. Too late I realized I'd destroyed the only secret to immortality I had. It was gone.

In a rush of impulse, I grabbed a shard of wine-bottle from the floor, coating my hands with the blood dripping from it. I had to stop the pain . . .

I stabbed the splinter into my arm. A fountain of crimson dribbled from the wound, and I smiled at the momentary relief from the agony in my chest. I could deal with this. I couldn't deal with a broken heart.

I tore the shard through my skin until my arm was completely covered in damp scarlet liquid, dripping to the floor, mingling with the already large puddle of blood. The salty smell of it reached my nose. A frantic, hysterical laugh broke out through my dry lips and I knew then that my mind had snapped. It had been warped by false illusions for so long . . . twisted and bent, mangled . . . it couldn't have held out for much longer. It had finally broken.

My eyes fluttered and I momentarily delved into the realm of unconsciousness. But I was brought back to awareness by a voice.

"Becky! _Becky!" _

For a single heartbeat I thought that I was with David. I would allow myself to think the name; now that I was dying . . . I couldn't survive from this much blood loss. My last moments could be with him. My last thoughts could be of him.

But it was not David.

"_Becky! _Oh, shit, Becky, wake up!" begged Jay. "Come on!"

"Let me go . . ." I whispered. "Let me go with him . . ."

"No! Stay with me, Becky. You can't do this to yourself. I won't let you!"

"I'm sorry . . ."

And I was enveloped in blackness.

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><p>"Is she awake? Her heartbeat's picking up. She might be able to hear us . . ."<p>

There pressure on my shoulder. "Becky? Becky, can you hear me?"

"David . . ." I mumbled. "Where's . . . David?"

"He's not here, Becky. Are you feeling okay?"

I frowned, trying to open my eyes. They were glued shut. I couldn't be dead . . . was death this painful? My arm felt like it'd been sawn off.

"Where . . . am I?" I asked the voice.

"You're in the hospital, honey. We managed to get you here in time, just after the . . . accident."

I wasn't dead? But then . . . I must be alive.

"Well, dammit." I managed to open my eyes, and I found myself staring up into the face of my adoptive mother.

"What's the matter, honey? You're fine. You'll be okay."

"That's my point," I explained, uncaring whether she thought I was crazy or not. "I'm alive. Now I have to put up with every fucking person on this planet like you that has done this to me."

She looked taken aback. "Becky, it's me, honey, it's Lucy."

"Exactly. And I hate you just like I hate Michael and Sam. So leave me alone. Let me die."

Her eyes widened. "Nurse? I think she needs some more medication."

I stared in fury as a small woman loomed into my view.

"Are you feeling alright? Are you hurting anywhere?" she asked.

"No I am _not _feeling alright. And I don't need any more _medication."_

The nurse pursed her lips. "I'll get her some more medication."

"What? No! Don't you even . . ."

She walked out of the room, and I could hear my heartbeat rocketing through the monitor. I was _not _going to let them put me back to sleep. And I was certainly not going to hang around in this hospital room any longer.

I sat up, ignoring my protesting muscles.

"What are you doing, Becky?" asked Lucy.

I looked around the room; Michael and Sam were sat on separate recliners next to the door. They made up my decision for me.

"Going," was all I said.

And then I ran to the door, ripping the plastic tubing on my wrist out of my body. I wrenched open the door and ran down the corridor. My mind was reeling as I sprinted along the empty hallways and through the reception room, until I finally found myself on the road, standing there in the pouring rain.

It was midnight, and I knew that I'd picked the perfect time to make my escape.

I was thankful that they hadn't changed me out of my clothes; I wouldn't be able to run away from this place wearing a stupid hospital nightgown. My arm, though, was covered in thick white gauze, and I knew that I was going to have a scar there. If I kept this up, I'd have a perfect reflection of what I felt like inside.

When I reached the cave I stuffed all my clothes and possessions into my rucksack. There were dried smears of blood all over the floor, and a fragment of a wine bottle. I picked it up and shoved it in with my other things.

I headed down the slope, running the opposite direction to the searching flashlights that were pointing my way, illuminating the ground a few feet in front of me.

_Stay close to the cliff, stay close to the cliff, _I chanted to myself as I sidled away from the beam of light.

In five minutes I managed to escape, for a while, at least. I reached a small pathway that winded up a slant and onto the cliff and gladly rushed up it, looking back at the ocean which was now only a few feet from the base of the rock. I couldn't've gone on for much longer. A few yards up the slope I collapsed onto my hands and knees.

_Please, God, if you're up there, don't let them find me. Please don't let them find me . . ._

There a moment of silence, and then I slipped into oblivion.

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><p>I awoke to the feeling of cool water lapping against my feet. My eyes shifted in their sockets, drawn to the wetness. My throat burned.<p>

"Urgh . . ." I groaned, wrenching my eyes open.

I was lying on sandy ground, my copper hair strewn across my face. I frowned. Where was I? Suddenly last night's events came rushing back.

"Oh!" I gasped, and pulled myself upright.

My head span and black spots dotted my vision. I jerked my legs back from the body of water that they were dangling in. I quickly assessed myself for injury.

My arm . . . hurt. But it was still taped up, so that was a good thing. My head throbbed like I had a really bad hangover, but it was manageable enough. All in all I wasn't that bad, considering my grand getaway yesterday.

I took in my surroundings more carefully this time.

The sun touched the dark, straight line of the western horizon delicately, and the water shimmered with golden light. I was out for almost a whole day . . . I couldn't believe it. No wonder I felt so groggy.

I looked behind me, and saw turned-up sand in a neat strip down to where I was. I must've rolled in my sleep all the way down to the waterfront . . . weird. But at least I hadn't drowned. That was always a plus.

I stood up shakily and walked down the beach. There was little left inside of me now . . . I could hardly go back to Jay. The meeting with my family had shattered what little was left of me. Add that with the fact that I might possibly be crazy and you get – a pretty messed up seventeen-year-old.

My heart continued to beat, though, despite my desperation for it to stop. I picked up a smooth pebble from the sand and threw it out across the water. It leaped across the molten gold two times, three, before sinking beneath the waves, lost forever. It reminded me of my useless struggle against life. Three big leaps, three chances, before I lost it all inevitably. But I wonder who had cast me to waves . . . left me at their mercy. Some asshole.

I laughed resentfully and kicked the sand. A single tear trickled from my eye as I sank to the floor, my face set in bitter irony.

The ocean turned from molten gold to concrete black in the space of a few hours.

I felt a strange, hollow sort acceptance from within. I'd found what could very well have been a friend, a saviour, only to have him ripped away from me as David was. The name brought me no pain. Again . . . just a hollow emptiness. I could accept the fact that he was dead now, and even though it hurt and I would never forget, the realization had finally and truly sunk in.

There was a prickling sensation on the back of my neck, and I knew without looking that there was someone behind me.

I could feel electricity running through the air, and straight away, I knew he was here watching over me. In that very special moment, it was like he'd never left. Like he was right by my side. A soft, gentle breeze blew, touching my soul. I breathed in and smiled – a real smile, not a fake one. There was so much love and emotion swirling around inside of me I should've burst. I could feel him . . . right here . . . I turned round to face the dark shadows, and wasn't surprised when I saw a dim silhouette in the murkiness. My mind could have been playing tricks on me, but I knew for a fact that he was standing there. Like an angel coming back to watch over me. Dead or not . . . somehow, just _somehow, _he was able to be here with me. I smiled at him. A single tear of sadness trickled out of my eye and down my cheek. In that moment I knew I would love him until the day I stopped existing . . . even after that. Something this powerful, this strong, couldn't just fade. It had to go on, forever and ever . . .

The silhouette faded, and I felt him leave. But he'd been with me . . . for a moment.

The stars above suddenly seemed brighter than they'd been in a very long time.

_Thank you, God, wherever you are. Thank you for letting me have him for just one more moment._

I stood up, grabbed my pack, and walked along the pale stretch of sand. I climbed the winding path up onto the cliff and wasn't surprised when I found myself beside a corroded metal fence. I'd had an idea of where I was when I'd first seen the trail up the slope.

I paced slowly into the cave, looking straight ahead. I wouldn't be able to live here . . . Jay knew about it . . . but I could stay here for a short while. Until I was ready to say goodbye to Santa Carla and everything I'd been holding onto for the past seven months. That was my problem . . . letting go. I was too afraid to relinquish my hold on what little remained of his memory.

I cast a quick glance around the cave once I was inside. A thin sliver of moonlight fell through the crack in the stone, elongating the shadows and making everything look sharper, defined. The atmosphere felt strangely calm. I didn't trust it.

"Where are you?" I whispered to the still air.

Of course, there was no answer.

"Please," I begged. "Please . . . I love you."

I dropped to my knees and whispered the words over again, but I might as well have been talking to a brick wall. No one responded to my desperate pleas. I slammed my fist against the hard floor, sending a jolt through my knuckles. What the hell was I trying to prove? That he was really here? That I _had _seen him that night on the boardwalk, that I wasn't crazy? It was useless and pathetic. He wasn't coming back.

I stood up and whispered, "Bye," to the figurative brick wall.

I walked slowly out of the cave with my eyes shut, promising myself that I wasn't going to come back, that I was just going to forget. Let go of all the memories until there really was nothing left at all.

My legs obeyed mutely and submissively when I ordered them forward, all the way to the beach where I'd went with Jay. I sat there, mind empty, eyes blank and staring. My heart was loud and hard against my ribcage. I wished it would just stop . . . it would be so much easier. But I'd always been one to endure; it was against my nature to give up, against my nature to take the easy way out. So I would stand up in opposition to the world. Take the blows that were thrown at me, embrace the flames that shrouded me. I would not give in.

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><p>"Becky!" Jay's voice was loud with surprise.<p>

"Shhh!" I scolded, looking around at the heads turning. "Let's take this somewhere more private."

He nodded, staring at me as if I was a ghost.

"You thought I would leave without giving you an explanation?" I snapped.

"I'm just shocked, that's all. Give me some time to recover."

I scowled and dragged him out of the boardwalk to the closest beach, thankful of the darkness that enshrouded the world. No one could possibly recognize me.

I balked when I saw my face on the nearest streetlamp and ripped the poster down, tearing it to shreds.

"Calm down! No one pays much attention to them, trust me. Nobody's going to recognize you."

"Nothing wrong with a little caution," I retorted, spitting on the torn paper.

Jay shook his head. "I can't believe you're really here."

"Well don't get used to it. I'm leaving."

"What? Why?"

"I can't stand this place any longer." I continued to walk along the beach.

"You can't leave,"

"Who says?"

"I do. Please. You can't leave me alone."

I flinched as I remembered the feeling of abandonment. "You won't be alone. You have a family, people that love you. You'll be fine."

"Don't." He begged. "Don't leave."

"I have to." I whispered. "But . . . you could come with me."


	19. Leaving

**Hey! I know it's a lot shorter than the others, but I hope you guys enjoy it.**

**Here it is!**

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><p><em>"One of the hardest things in life is watching the person you love, love someone else."<em>

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><p>"With you? You're serious?"<p>

"Yes," I whispered.

He blinked once. And then he pulled me by the wrist towards him, pressing his lips with gentle pressure against mine. I tried to stop the tears trickling from my eyes as I kissed him back, but they flowed mutinously down my face, falling over our connected lips.

He pulled back when he realized I was crying.

"I'm sorry," I whispered in apology.

"Don't apologize. I know . . . I know it's hard for you."

"Thank you. I don't deserve it."

He shook his head and embraced me in his arms, allowing me to lean my head into his chest. I stifled the devastating sobs that were forcing their way up my throat. What help would crying do? The tears were only one more thing that I could lose.

"I'm so messed up," I whispered into his sweater.

"Don't be silly. You're hurt . . . but you're recovering. You'll get better, but you need time – I know that now. I'm sorry for pushing you. I'll just do my best to help you, as a friend . . . or if you want, I could be more than that."

"Thank you. But I'll need time to think about it, and when –" I stopped myself from saying _if _"when I get better, then . . . then maybe I could be more for you. I'm sorry for keeping you waiting . . . you deserve so much better."

He shook his head but didn't answer.

He held me for another minute in silence, before pulling back to look at my face.

"If you don't mind . . . could we stay for another day? I need to say goodbye . . . get things done . . ." Jay's eyes were faraway in a different world.

"Whatever you need. Don't rush things for me . . . I'm sure I can hold out for a while longer."

"Thanks."

I laughed humourlessly. "Stop thanking me unnecessarily."

"Sorry."

"And apologizing unnecessarily."

He smiled wryly. "Sorry."

I shook my head in incredulity. "Not funny."

He laughed in disagreement, wrapping his hand over mine comfortingly. We walked silently along the beach until he led me back to his motorcycle.

"We can go back to my flat if you want, I need to pack. I'll take the couch if you want to sleep on the bed. You look exhausted."

"I'm not taking away your bed. The couch is fine with me. I didn't know you had your own flat."

He shrugged. "My dad had a lot of money, so when he died . . ."

He said it nonchalantly, but I sensed the pain underneath his calm facade. He was still hurting inside. When he said he'd gotten over it, he hadn't been telling the truth . . . I realized it would be the same for me. I would never truly get over what had happened here, in this life. Even when I began a new one.

"Let's go," I muttered, trying to keep the hurt out of my own voice.

He nodded and swung his leg over the bike, allowing me to wrap my arms tight around his waist.

His flat was only a few streets away from my old house, something that I did not like at all. He seemed to notice me flinching when we rode past the driveway, but he didn't mention it, even though I could tell he wanted to. Trying to spare me the pain, I guessed.

He pulled up outside a small block of houses and entered, leading me up the stairs to the second floor.

"Here," he said, pulling me inside.

"When you say goodbye . . . it would be best if I wasn't there, wouldn't it?" I asked.

"Probably."

I nodded, shame seeping through me.

"I'm so sorry," I said again, pulling him into my arms.

He came willingly, wrapping his body around mine. I arched my neck up to press a kiss to his cheek, but he turned his mouth to mine so that our lips met.

I did not cry this time.

I fastened my arms even more securely around him, hating myself more and more every second. Because when I imagined kissing someone and wrapping my arms around him, he had fangs and a blonde mullet. I was not kissing Jay in this moment, I was kissing _David. _

"Becky . . ." he murmured against my lips.

I tried to keep myself in the moment – keep myself _here _– but I was somewhere far away, with a very different man . . . I twirled my fingers in his hair and pulled him closer, so that there was very little space between the two of our bodies.

Suddenly there was a loud _thump _against the window, but when I pulled away to look, there was nothing there.

Jay began to pull my face back to his, but, full of guilt, I moved away. I did not want to do this to him . . . whether he knew I was doing it or not.

"Please, no more." I whispered. "Sorry."

_Sorry . . . _my word of the night.

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><p>David did not believe it – how could he believe it? – but still his heart ached with the agony of the moment. He could hear muffled talking through the window from where he'd dropped, low, strained voices, but he did not want to hear them. Why would he want to hear them, when the only thing that would be said was how much Becca loved someone else, loved someone so much more than she'd ever loved him, even when she'd sworn that she would never give up on him? How could he possibly bear to hear that?<p>

Hatred rose in David, stronger than he'd ever known. He wanted to kill the man through the window.

But . . . he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to do it, to hurt Becca that much, to destroy her. So what would he do now? He had nothing to lose . . . not a family – he'd already lost that; not love – he'd lost that, too.

All he had was memories. And he loved Becca enough to sacrifice his own peace of mind for hers.

David forced his legs to move away from the source of pain, away from Becca, away from his entire life. The atmosphere was still and tense, as if waiting for him to do something, to decide . . . he still did not know what to do. His breathing was ragged and laboured; his heartbeat strong and loud in his chest.

That night on the beach . . . he was so sure that she had seen him, known that he was there. But he'd not been able to bring himself to reveal that he had been. What would she have done? Run away? Told him she did not want him any more? That would have been too much for him to comprehend, to take in, and David was glad he had not shown himself.

"David," a quiet voice said.

"Stay away from me, Max," David turned to face the man stood behind him.

"I told you we should have killed her," continued Max lightly, oblivious to the heated feelings writhing in David's chest. "She is not worth your attention."

"Don't you dare," snarled David, "don't you ever say that. You as good as killed my brothers, and I'm not going to let you touch her."

Something flashed across Max's face at the mention of his other sons. "She does not love you. Why keep her?"

David laughed; a harsh, bitter laugh, which sounded as if it should have come from someone else. "You wouldn't understand. You wouldn't understand even if it was shoved under your nose, would you? Because you're too selfish to see anything apart from yourself."

"I do understand,"

"No, you don't!" David was shouting now, his voice loud and harsh; Max understood nothing about what he was going through.

"You're acting like a child. Acting misunderstood . . . I would've thought more of you, David."

David stared Max full in the face, hot anger rolling through him in seething waves, making him want to kill the man before him.

"I don't care what you think of me," murmured David, voice now quiet, deadly. "You haven't got a clue, have you? You have no idea how this feels."

"See? Misunderstood, again. You're a vampire; you should not be so weak. Yes, your anger may be strong – all vampires' emotions are; we've had more time to develop them – but it does not mean you should be a coward. Be what you are, David." Max's voice was petulant.

"If this is what it's like, then maybe I don't want to _be _a vampire anymore."

"Don't be ridiculous. It's pathetic."

David looked into Max's cold eyes, and he felt the inexorable desire to tear him to shreds; to force him to feel the pain inside of himself, to make him hurt.

"If I'm so pathetic, why don't you kill me now? Come on, attack me, prove how strong you are, how weak I am. Come on, don't be a coward . . ." David's voice was almost as cold as Max's.

Max made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. "I'm not going to kill my son, David,"

"I am not your son, and you are not my father."

"Oh? Who raised you? Who taught you everything you know, taught you how to get the best out of this life? Answer me, boy." Max snapped, face bone-white.

"I taught myself. The only thing you trained me to do is kill."

"If that –" Max was cut off by the sharp snap of a door shutting.

David turned to face the sound; in the same instant, Max had disappeared. Facing him was a young man of nineteen or twenty, black-haired and staring at David with a peculiar expression on his face; he looked as if he had seen a ghost.

"What?" snapped David, before realizing who he was speaking to.

The little colour in his pale complexion drained away as the word died on his lips; he had hardly uttered it, and there was no way the man could have heard him.

Another, sharper flare of anger surged within David. He was looking at the man who had taken away the girl he loved; filled the place that was rightfully his; forced him to relinquish what little hold he had on peace.

And he hated it.

David watched the man walk away, his fists clenched into tight balls; the skin over his knuckles taught and close to breaking. Once the man was out of sight, David leaped back up to the window ledge. Looking through the glass, he could see a small form turning restlessly on the sofa, and could hear soft mumbling. He shifted his weight so that he could ease the window open.

David's feet made a soft _thud _on the carpet as he flung himself through the open hole. He could hear the mumbling clearly now, see Becca twist and turn under the blankets laid out on the faux leather recliner.

"Don't . . . must see . . . one more time . . ." the words were jumbled and made no sense.

David stared and felt the ache in his chest ease, just slightly, knowing that he was with her, that he could be complete for a tiny moment. He wanted to touch her so badly . . . he walked forward and reached out his hand, close to Becca's troubled face. He let it fall just centimetres from her copper hair, a small, pained noise escaping his lips.

Max had been right. He was weak.

All the time he'd spent trying to make sense of his feelings for her, even _her_ feelings for _him_, just to have it all taken away. He could've spent the time with her, loving her . . . what a waste.

"Goodbye," he whispered, and as soon as the word had fallen from his lips, he knew that it must be the final goodbye. He must leave her, now, to protect her.

And so he would.

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><p><strong>Aww. Poor David. I feel mean doing this . . . ah well. Review? ;)<strong>


	20. After an eternity

**Hey! I really couldn't wait to upload this chapter, so I thought I'd put it up a little early . . . hope you don't mind XD**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

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><p><em>"All's fair in love and war."<em>

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><p>I heard a whispered word; the voice was so familiar, it roused me into consciousness. My eyes snapped open, but when I scanned the room it was empty; the only sound was my jagged heartbeat and breathing.<p>

I fell into unawareness again without even realizing it.

"Becky!" Jay's voice spoke hurriedly. "Becky, wake up."

My eyes fluttered open and I stared into his black-blue irises for a few seconds.

"What?" I said finally.

"We can leave now . . . unless you've changed your mind?"

"No, no . . . what time is it?" I mumbled groggily, closing my lids again.

"It's five to six,"

"What!" I sat up too quickly, and my head span. "I've been out for . . ." I counted the hours on my fingers. "Fourteen hours?"

"Yep. I thought you'd fallen into a coma or something."

"Oh, very funny."

He shrugged. "Are you hungry?"

I considered. "Not really. But if we're on the road for the next few days, then maybe I should eat something."

"Good point . . . but where exactly _are _we going?"

I smiled wryly. "Away."

"Fair enough,"

It was pitch black by the time we were ready to leave.

"One last look around?" asked Jay, as if he needed my permission.

"Sure," I agreed.

He took my hand and we drove to the beach.

There was a sinister edge to the night air, a chilling sort of premonition. The waxy moon hung low in the sky, partially obscured by dark storm clouds; the only light in the black world. The stars were absent tonight.

"What's wrong?" asked Jay when he felt my hands shaking.

"Nothing,"

I didn't know myself. But every shadow seemed sharper than it should have, like there was something buried within, lurking there, watching. I didn't like it one bit.

We sat down on a large piece of driftwood next to the water. The waves made barely any noise as they lapped gently against the beach, and, black and opaque, they gave the appearance of undulating spirals of oil.

"I'm going to miss this place," announced Jay solemnly.

"Me, too." I whispered.

Even the hushed murmur was too loud in the anticipating silence.

The back of my neck prickled, and I whipped my head round faster than I would've thought possible. The shadowy silhouette at the end of the beach didn't move fast enough to avoid my eyes.

"What are you doing?" asked Jay, surprised to see me marching off towards the road.

"Someone is watching us," I replied, keeping my eyes fixed firmly on the spot where the figure had disappeared.

"How do you know?"

I waved away his question with a shake of my head.

"I know you're there," I told no one in particular once I was stood on the pavement at the beach's end.

A car drove by just as rain started to fall, its headlights illuminating the shadows for a brief second. It was just long enough for me to glimpse the figure stood a few metres away, hidden in the darkness of a bus shelter.

"Who's there?" demanded Jay, making a move towards the silhouette.

"No," I said. "Let me."

I walked with shaking legs towards the alcove, squinting in the darkness to see who it was.

And then, hesitantly, the figure stepped into the moonlight.

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><p>Seeing her there; fragile, breakable, hurt him. She was so . . . <em>different. <em>The headstrong, defiant Becca he used to know was gone.

She gaped at him, her cinnamon eyes looking-glasses to her soul. He could see the emotions there – disbelief, shock, hurt – they were all displayed clearly, strewn out for the world to see. Of course, they were mirrors of David's own emotions.

"It's you," the man stood next to her said, glaring at David. "The other night; I saw you. You were outside my house."

David's eyes narrowed when he saw that the man's hand was wrapped firmly around Becca's. A scalding flame of agony licked his insides.

"Becca," he said, ignoring the man.

She flinched and gasped, as if hearing his voice caused her pain.

"Becca, I know this is a shock," he said again, his voice strangely calm and composed despite the fiery emotions raging inside of him.

"How . . . ?" the strangled word barely made it out of her mouth.

David's insides twisted in pain. "I'm sorry."

"Stay away from her," the man said, taking a step towards David, his fists raised as if to punch someone.

How ignorant this human was, blind to how close to death he was. David stared him in the eyes, the hate and venom unrestrained in his gaze, burning through his calm facade.

He took a small, lethal step forward.

"No," a small voice pleaded, "don't."

All eyes turned towards Becca, and David was surprised at how quickly she'd picked up on his advance; and what it meant.

"Don't kill him," she whispered again. "He's only trying to help me."

David flinched away from the vulnerability in her eyes.

"Kill me? I'll kill him before he sets a finger on either of us!" the man continued blindly on his path to death.

David let the familiar feeling of bloodlust take him over; the pain in his throat was a million times more bearable than the pain in his chest. He felt his incisors elongate, adrenaline flow unheeded in his veins.

"Step away, boy, before I rip your throat out." he growled.

Once the man had caught sight of David, he did step back.

"What . . . what the hell are you? Stay away from us!"

David could hear the boy's voice shake in fear.

And then the boy took a step towards him, grabbing a loose shard of glass from the broken bus shelter. He let out a strangled cry. David crouched, preparing to spring.

"No!" yelled Becca rushing forward.

David was not going to protect himself against her advance – she was even weaker than the boy – but . . . he didn't have to.

Becca planted herself in front of David, facing the boy with an expression of such wild protectiveness and rage it was almost scary. He detested seeing such a hateful and feral expression on her face. It was wrong.

"Don't – touch – him," she spat, the fragility completely gone from her voice.

"Becca . . . ?" asked the boy, all anger evaporated.

"I won't let you hurt him. Get away!" she screeched.

David placed a hand on her shoulder. She turned to look at him, her eyes beyond reason. There was not a shred of sanity in them.

And he realized just what the last seven months had done to her.

"Please, Becca. I'm here, I'm fine; he won't hurt me."

It took a few seconds for the words to sink in, for the wildness in her eyes to finally fade. Sanity returned.

A small, broken whimper escaped her lips and, just like that, the bloodlust died within his system.

Becca dived into David's arms, sobs wracking her body, her breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"I'm . . . so sorry . . ." she wept, burying her face in his chest.

David wrapped his arms around her, uncaring whether or not she loved the boy in front of him. He would never love anyone but her for as long as he lived; be that a decade, a century, or a millennia. The past months meant nothing. He would always want Becca; always need her; always love her, forever. Nothing could change that.

And then there was a cry, and a fiery stab of pain exploded in his right shoulder.

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><p>I could not believe it. David – <em>David <em>– was here, in my arms, _with_ me. One hundred percent real.

For one wild and fleeting moment, I wondered how he was alive, how he'd managed to survive the antlers that had pierced his chest; the mentally repressed image found its way into my mind, and I whimpered.

I knew it was stupid. Why cry, when he was here with me, alive and well? I had not entirely accepted it.

My hysterics were interrupted by a loud roar and the sound of glass tearing through flesh.

I heard David growl and whipped around, the wild and frenzied side of me resurfacing. Jay was stood a few steps away, a shard of bloodied broken glass in his hand, the fluid dripping down his forearm.

Realization found me, and my mouth opened slowly to form a round _O._

My head turned mechanically back to David, forcing my eyes to fall upon what they did not want to see.

It was not as bad as it could have been. There was a long tear in his coat and, through the opening, a wide laceration engraved in red on his limb. Blood was spreading steadily across the fabric.

A low hiss escaped David's lips, and a fiery rage burned in his eyes. As I watched, the bleeding stopped, and the gash started to scab over until it looked days old. I sighed in relief as I watched the accelerated healing process.

"What the . . ." Jay stared in wonder at the fading wound.

"Becca," David snarled quietly, "move aside, please."

I stared. "What . . . ?"

Comprehension dawned.

"What! No, David, please, he didn't mean to . . . he didn't know what he was doing . . ."

Suddenly, a strange expression crossed David's face.

"Oh," was all he said, as if he'd forgotten something and only just remembered it. "I see,"

"What do you see?" I asked.

He cocked his head, and I could tell his bout of fury was gone; it had lasted merely a second. "You love him."

"Well . . . as a friend, yes, but nothing more than that. Why?"

He laughed once; it was more of a bark. "F_riends? _I saw you kissing him the other day, Becca. That's not what you do with _friends."_

"You . . . you _knew _about that?"

"Of course I did."

Jay stepped forward. "I knew it was you! You were spying on her, weren't you?"

If looks could kill, then Jay would've been incinerated by the furious look David shot at him.

"I love you, David, you know that . . ." I whispered, and stepped closer to him.

Just as I thought his arms were about to wrap around me, he stepped backwards. The sentence died in my throat.

" . . . David?" I asked, my voice breaking over the word.

"I'm sorry, Becca, but you've got to decide." He said.

His eyes were hard and cold, so like the solid ice I'd always associated them with. There was a faint trace of bitterness in his voice, but nothing else. He was totally impassive.

"Decide what?"

"Me," he gestured to himself, "or him," he flicked his hand carelessly towards Jay.

"He knows about me now. I'll have to kill him . . ." he looked directly at me. "Unless you decide otherwise,"

"What?" growled Jay.

I was surprised I could speak past the lump in my throat. "And if I want him to live . . . ?"

"Then I'll go. You can stay with him. I'll trust you to stop him from saying anything."

"So . . . either you stay or he dies, is that it? You'd leave me after all this time, _all this time, _because he knows about you?" my eyes narrowed. "Why _did _you wait so long, David?"

His deadpan expression shifted to one of reminisce. "Because I though you were dead."

"_You _thought _I _was dead?"

"I thought that after . . . after it happened . . . when I saw all the posters . . ."

"You thought I'd killed myself," I said matter-of-factly.

He nodded sombrely, the placid mask still not back in place.

"Well," I said, voice higher than usual, "when I find Marko, Dwayne and Paul, I will ask them to kick your butt for me. Out of everything that's ever happened in my life, you are the one thing that has hurt me the most. Congratulations."

Pain flashed across his face.

"Of course, I still want you." I added quickly. "Don't think that you can just go, because I'm not going to let you. I'm sure the boys agree."

"Becca . . ." he murmured, his face still contorted in agony.

I hated it. "Yes?"

"The boys . . . the boys aren't coming back."

My heart jolted. "What's that supposed to mean? You came back. They can, too."

But I knew that I was only fooling myself. The cold truth began to worm its way through me, trickling like poison into my bloodstream and making my heart strain to be heard.

A mirror of my face appeared on David's. "The antlers missed my heart, Becca. But the boys . . . will never come back.

It was like one of those really bad sitcoms, when you think things just can't get any worse, and then you find that you can be proven totally wrong. Things could get a whole lot worse.

I stared at David with a blank expression on my face.

"No." The harsh act of denial did nothing to prevent the truth. "_No!"_

I ran over to the nearest solid surface in sight – the bus shelter – and slammed my fist into it. My sprained arm protested weakly, but the fury in my veins drowned it out.

"Becca, please, you're going to hurt yourself." Begged David.

I ignored him.

Gone. _Gone. _Sweet little Marko, so cheeky and shy, gone. Paul, stupid but brotherly, gone. And Dwayne, strong, silent, protective . . . gone. All the people I loved. All but one.

"_Don't _tell me what to do!" I shrieked.

"Becky, I don't know who these guys are, but I'm sure they're in a better place . . ."

I turned to glare at Jay. "You, _you, _just shut up. You don't know anything!"

He shut up.

The anger burning its way through me was still not satisfied, and I grabbed a broken piece of wood from the floor of the bus shelter, slamming it into the glass. Small crystalline shards flew through the air and scattered the ground. Next I swung my makeshift bat into the subsequent pane of glass and, it too, shattered.

"You – fucking – asshole!" I yelled, and made a rude hand gesture at the dark storm clouds above.

I'd never been particularly religious, but with no one else to blame, why not slam the big man in the sky? No one else could be held responsible.

"_Fucking – asshole!" _I repeated, punctuating each word with another swing of my makeshift weapon.

"Becca . . ."

Soft hands restrained me from doing further damage to civilian property. I struggled against them, set resolutely in destroying everything within my reach, be it alive or dead.

"Let . . . _go!" _I shouted, throwing David's arms off me.

I began to kick and punch the metal framework of the shelter, grunting and sobbing at the same time. Each hit met my body with a fiery burn, but beyond noticing, I carried on pulverizing the lean metal structure with a fierce wrath that conquered all and consumed all.

"Becca! You've got to stop now."

My fists carried on flying.

"Stop. _Stop."_

The word was said with such brutality that my body halted in its path of destruction for a few seconds, enough time for David to wrap his arms around me and quash my desire to demolish the land any more.

"Becca. I'm so, so sorry." He murmured.

"Let go," I sobbed, not meaning it. "Let me go . . ."

"Becca . . ."

"I wish I was dead."

"Don't say that."

"I can say what I want!" I yelled, making one last desperate attempt to escape.

I managed to slip under his arm but, falling into a sprint, was cut short by Jay.

"Becky," he said, "listen. You need to calm down. Breathe. You'll be fine."

If he hadn't tried to restrain me, I might've left him alone. But he wasn't David and he was the closest thing to my balled-up fists, so I let my fury have him.

My knuckles connected with his right eye in a satisfying _thump._

Another pair of hands grabbed my arms and pinned them to my sides. This time I did not try to throw him off; I knew it would be no good.

My shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Thank you," murmured David.

"Don't thank me," I whispered back. "Please, please don't go."

"He knows."

"It doesn't matter! He won't tell anyone. No one will be looking for you . . . just _please. _Don't leave me. I've only just got you back . . . it will kill me. I know you might not want me, but please just don't go."

"I do want you," he disagreed, "but this is dangerous for both of us."

"Dangerous!" I scoffed. "Like that matters – less than a week ago I was almost murdered!"

"Will you turn?"

I paused. No, I would not. "I . . . I don't have to, not just yet. Not ever, really."

"Turn?" demanded Jay. "Turn into what?"

"Becca, what about when you're eighty years old, and I'm still nineteen? When you die, and I'm still alive?"

"Then you can move on."

"_Move on? _You think I can just _move on?_" he growled, still holding me.

"Who knows? You seemed to be getting along fine when you thought I'd killed myself. Would it really make that much of a difference if I _was _dead?"

"You have no idea how I was getting along."

"It doesn't matter! Just promise me you won't leave."

He paused. ". . . I'm not promising anything. But I won't leave . . . yet."

"Thank you," I gasped.

He let me go, and I stumbled forward.

Jay caught me and tried to take me into his arms. "Come on, Becky, let's go."

"Jay . . ." I began, unsure of what to say. "Jay, I can't. I'm sorry. I wish I could've known from the start so I wouldn't have to hurt you, but these last few months have made me realize that no matter what, you can't decide who you love. And I love you, but not in that way. I've only just met you," I reminded him.

He scowled, and stepped away. "Yeah? Well, you didn't seem to mind that the other night, did you? Not when you were all over me."

Fury roared inside me. "I was _not _all over you!"

"Oh really?"

"W-well," I stuttered, "if you didn't like it, then maybe you should've said. Or perhaps you're just so cheap that you'd take anything that's even vaguely female."

He opened his mouth three times without saying a word. It reminded me strangely of a fish, and I resisted the hysterical urge to laugh.

"Don't insult her," growled David. "Don't you dare."

"C'mon," I muttered, glaring darkly at Jay. "If anyone will kill him it will be me. And by the way –" I looked directly at Jay "– if you say a _word _about this to anyone, then I'll know about it. And I won't be very happy."

The threat obviously didn't seem as empty to him as it did to me; I would never hurt him. Not after the last week.

"Fine," he said curtly. "But it's your choice. Stay with that . . . _freak. _He isn't right for you. It's so obvious, even you can see it."

I tried not to hit him. "David," I murmured stiffly, "I think we should get out of here now, before I murder someone."

He nodded, staring at Jay although he wanted to kill him himself.

I let David pull me away, and I gave one last frantic glance back at the back; Jay's face was twisted in agony, sending a flare of guilt through me. How could I do that to him? I felt a sudden urge to break away and run down the beach to apologize. But there was no way I was going to be separated from David after I'd only just got him back. No way at all.

So I sank into a peaceful state of blankness as the roar of David's bike sounded in the still night air, rumbling beneath me.

The last thing I was aware of was the soft touch of lips on mine.

**There! Not that bad, was it? ****Hopefully I'll be updating soon.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	21. I couldn't lose you again

**Hey Guys. I know this chapter is a little rushed - okay, a _lot _rushed - but I came up with the idea and I couldn't wait to put it down on paper. Or Microsoft Word. Or whatever.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy. **

**P.S. Thanks to Emzy2k11 for giving me the idea of the line 'you look like you've seen a ghost.' Much appreciated.**

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><p><em>"To believe in love, to be ready to give up anything for it, to be willing to risk your life for it, is the ultimate tragedy."<em>

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><p>I was aware of someone lying next to me. Panic bubbled within me, frantic to escape, but I knew I had to stay calm.<p>

Who could it be? Jay? The last thing I could remember was sitting on the beach with him . . . and the next thing I know I'd passed out. But boy, my subconscious _did not _want to behave.

I could remember my dream very clearly.

In my dream, he'd come back. He hadn't died. The antlers had missed his heart . . . if that was even possible. He'd looked pretty dead to me.

"Becca? Becca, are you awake?" a soft voice whispered in my ear.

Oh. Oh _shit. _My eyes flew open. Ice-blue irises greeted my vision, and I balked. Was I hallucinating? Because . . . that _could not _be David sat in front of me.

I pressed my finger warily against the stiff fabric of his trench coat, and my eyes increased to the size of golf balls when I realized I could actually feel it.

The imaginary David frowned. "Becca, are you okay?"

I ignored him, figuring that if he was a figment of my imagination, he wouldn't mind. I prodded him some more.

"Becca, that's getting quite annoying. Please stop it."

"Be quiet a minute," I commanded, annoyed that my brain wouldn't do what I wanted it to do.

I imagined David leaning down to kiss me – dangerous, I know, if I woke up from this strange hallucination – but he didn't.

I glared. "Are you real?"

His frown deepened. "What kind of a stupid question is that?"

"You can't talk to me like that. You're part of my imagination . . . so I would basically be insulting myself. That's actually quite lame."

I pondered this for a moment.

"Becca, I am not part of your imagination."

"Yeah, right," I snorted, "as if I'm going to believe that."

"Becca, this isn't funny. I – am – not – a – part – of – your – imagination."

As the grogginess from sleep started to fade, I realized that he might actually be right.

I poked him one last time to make sure, and then grinned. "You're alive!"

I threw my arms around him, pushing him flat on his back. He laughed and rolled his eyes.

"You seem happy," he commented.

"Pretty darn thrilled," I agreed.

It was true. Even the part of me that felt guilty for leaving Jay couldn't resist celebrating along with the rest of me. I laughed wildly and hopped up, smiling when I saw that we were in the cave.

David took my hand as I walked across the room with my eyes fixed firmly on a patch of bright colour against the dull grey backdrop.

A colourful, patchwork jacket was slung across the armrest of a chair.

A frown carved its way into my forehead. "I miss them," I whispered.

"Me too,"

A tear formed in my eye. "It'll never be the same without them."

"Never,"

I brushed the vivid fabric with my fingertips, noticing dark blotches on it, and a ragged hole in the centre.

My mind wandered back to that night.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do," I murmured to David.

He sighed, turning away from the sombre relic. "Where shall I begin?"

* * *

><p>I slid my eyes open. Yep. Definitely asleep. David's breathing was deep and peaceful, his face slack, his lips parted slightly. His expression was calm. I touched my lips to his forehead before hopping up.<p>

I managed to find his motorcycle hidden cleverly in a corner and haul it out of the cave. It was louder than mine, a loud roar instead of a drone, and I winced when the engine came to life.

_Don't wake up, please don't wake up, _I begged silently.

"Yes!" I cheered under my breath when I managed to speed away along the gleaming sand without being caught.

When I got to the small block of apartments my stomach started doing somersaults, tossing over and over in petrified little flips.

How was I going to do this?

I shook my head and leaped off the bike, heading over to meet my doom. Well, not literally. But near enough.

Stood outside the door, I waited anxiously as the chime of the doorbell rang. Then it opened, and someone stepped out.

"Hello?"

Jay squinted, and I saw his eyes widen as he saw me. A flare of shock flashed across his expression. And then a smile broke out on his face.

"Hah! I knew you'd come back!" he cheered.

He grabbed me into a tight hug.

"Uh . . . I was just coming to, well, y'know . . . clarify things . . ." my cheeks reddened at the pathetic excuse for an explanation.

"What do you mean?" he released me.

I sighed. "Down to the point – I think it would be best for you if you didn't see me anymore. Because, well . . . David might . . . get a little . . . angry."

"And you care about that?"

"You haven't seen him when he's irritated. You wouldn't want to be in a ten mile radius of it, trust me. He can get a little . . . out of control."

He muttered something about anger management, and I smacked his arm.

"Well . . . at least you came, I suppose. That has to count for something."

"Yeah. Right."

His face darkened. "I hate him. I wish he would just die."

"Don't say that!" I scowled.

"I mean it, Becky. Things would've been just fine. But oh no . . . he has to come and screw things up. I wonder who would win, if it was me against him . . ."

"Jay!"

He sighed. "Sorry. I'll pretend I don't want to murder him, if you want."

"Yes," I snapped, "I do want that."

"Is he really allergic to garlic?"

"No, he isn't. But if you don't shut up, then I'm going to have to hit you."

He ignored me. "But stakes work, right?"

He seemed to take my pained silence as a 'yes', and smiled. "Well, at least I have one advantage, if it comes down to it. The undead can't be that hard to make dead."

"He isn't undead. His heart is beating, and he breathes. Like you and me. He really isn't that much different from us."

"He drinks blood and kills people, but, of course, he's not _that_ different. Not different at all."

"Jay, shut up."

"Shutting up."

He grinned, but his eyes seemed far away. I wondered what he was thinking of, and whether it had anything to do with vampires.

I sighed. "I've got to go. I can't let him know that I'm here."

"Why? Is he going to physically stop you? Y'know, that's really abusive. Why doesn't he just come and drag you back now?"

"He can't go out in the sun."

Jay snorted. "That's pathetic."

"Not as pathetic as you were when I hit you in the face last night."

He scowled, and I sighed. "I've really got to go," I admitted.

"Please," he begged, "just stay for a little longer."

"I can't. I'm sorry. Goodbye,"

I leaned up to kiss him on the cheek.

"Bye, Becky. I'll see you around, I guess. Or not."

I shook my head. "This'll probably be the last time . . . it's for your own good. I don't want you to get hurt."

"Yeah, I know. You've got to do what you've got to do, right? I get it. It's fine."

I put my head in my hands. "Aw, Jay! I'm sorry. But I've got to."

"Yeah, yeah. Go on, then. Back to your vamp."

"Bye, Jay." I whispered, touching his face.

"Bye, Becky."

He hugged me once, squeezing me tight, and a tear ran down the side of my face, crystalline and sparkling.

A tear full of guilt.

* * *

><p>Something roused me from sleep as darkness had barely fallen. Whoops of laughter rang in my ears, and I squeezed my eyes tightly shut.<p>

"Shut up!" I grumbled.

I felt David stir beside me, just coming out of the sleep he'd been in since I'd left to find Jay. Once I felt him roll over, I managed to heave myself up into a sitting position, opening my eyes.

"Holy _shit!" _I croaked when I saw past the thin curtains that used to be Star's.

After hearing that, David shot up like a bullet, whipping his head round in search for what had startled me.

When he caught sight of his three family members outside of our little bubble, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped so low that it was in danger of touching the floor.

"Oh, hey guys," grinned Marko mischievously, "I hoped you'd wake up sometime." He frowned. "Are you alright, you two? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"_Are _you a ghost?" I gasped, wondering what kinds of things were possible in this crazy world.

Paul laughed, whipping his wild lion-mane around his head. "You really believe in those things, Becky? So superstitious."

Even Dwayne cracked a smile.

But David still hadn't moved; he was a perfect statue, unmoving and static.

"David?" I asked, shaking him. "David, are you alright?"

He blinked, and then his face contorted into a feral mask. "You show up here after _months?" _he barked, eyes wild. "You didn't even bother to let me know you were alive! Why not? _Why not? _Answer me!"

The cave went silent. For the first time, I noticed Max stood in the corner, fidgeting nervously.

"Well," began Paul, out of his comfort zone for once, "Max kind of . . . thought it would be best to leave it for a while."

"Max?" hissed David, glaring at the dark corner where Max stood.

Max's uneasy expression faltered, and then turned into one of apology. "I'm sorry, David. I guessed that if you thought your brothers were dead, then you might leave Santa Carla, and in doing so, leave the girl." He gestured to me, and David stiffened.

"Sorry, man," offered Marko, ashamed. "He wouldn't let us tell you we were still here."

"I knew you thought she was dead, and I wanted you to leave before you found out the truth. I was close to telling you the truth anyway . . . don't be angry, David."

"_Don't be angry?" _Hissed David. "How can I _not be angry? _Did you have any idea what you were _doing to me?"_

Max bowed his head. "I'm so sorry."

"Get out," ordered David. "Just get out."

Max began to open his mouth, but when David glared at him so fiercely that it scared even me, he walked slowly out of the cave into the night, eyes on the ground.

"Well," said Dwayne, in a rare show of speech, "I guess it's good to be back."

* * *

><p>The next day, when the sun was burning brightly and the sky was a perfect, shimmering blue, I lay down on the couch with my head back, marvelling at my luck and the sheer impossibility of it all.<p>

Then the roar of a motorcycle cut off my train of thought.

A minute later, footsteps echoed into the cave. My muscles automatically tensed. No vampire would be able to be outside on a day like this. Not without being burned to ashes.

I peered my head over the back of the couch.

"Jay!" I hissed.

The dark-haired man turned to stare at me.

"Becky? You're awake? I thought . . ." he trailed off, and I noticed a pointed wooden shaft gripped firmly in his hand.

"_No!" _the word came out as a strangled shriek.

There was a heartbeat's silence, and then there were hisses and yells coming from an adjoining cavern.

I turned to Jay with an expression of horror. "Get out," I whispered, "get out before they kill you, and never come back!"

His frozen expression quickly turned to one of comprehension. He turned on his heel and fled, not quite making the exit in time.

A dark form whipped in front of him, knocking him to the floor and blocking his exit.

"I was generous," hissed David, his eyes glowing golden orbs. His teeth were sharpened to points and gleamed in the dimmed light. "I gave you chances. I was even lenient enough to let you get away with attempting to kill me, but I will not be merciful anymore. You, boy, are going to die. Today."

There were howls of agreement from the other side of the room.

Jay looked slowly around, and then started to move away from David, further into the cave. David circled with him, coming to a stop a few feet from me.

And then Jay turned on the three other vampires, raising his stake as if he was going to throw it at them.

David hissed, and moved to intercept him.

I saw the trick before he did.

Jay whipped around and released the stake, sending it soaring through the air, straight in line with David's heart.

There was no missing this time.

I launched myself in front of David, just as the shaft hit. I felt a burning in my chest, a pain so complete it overwhelmed me, and I was pulled into blackness for a short, agonizing moment.

In that moment, I heard screams and yells from every direction. There was so much happening I couldn't make out what Jay had done next. All I knew is that David was safe. I had saved him. I had done what I was destined to do, what I was supposed to do, and sacrificed my own life to save his. And I was happy. Happier than I'd been in the last months of loneliness, happier in this moment of death than in life.

The shrieks faded, and the world grew quiet. Peaceful. I saw two gorgeous eyes – blue, not gold – hover above my face. David's expression was twisted in agony. I felt myself frown. That was wrong . . . he should be happy, happy that he was alive. He shouldn't be in pain.

"Couldn't . . . lose you . . . again . . ." I choked, giving him a weak smile.

"_No! Becca!" _ His lips formed the words, but I couldn't hear them.

I smiled again. He was wonderful. Beautiful; perfect; everything I would ever want . . . I would die. I was bound to die – I could feel the blood pouring out of my ruined chest, the life slowly fading out of me. But he would still live. And I would still love him, forever, _wherever, _because that was just how things were, how the cards had been dealt.

The pain started to leave my body, and I decided that if the person I loved most in the world was protected, then I could finally rest in peace.

David's face was streaked with tears that I thought I would never see.

Darkness blurred the corners of my vision, and David's form shimmered in and out of focus, evading my searching eyes in a desperate attempt to mock me before I finally departed this life. Forever. I tried to thwart the shadows, but my attempt was as futile as my stuttering heartbeat. The world was fading fast. My eyelids fluttered once, twice, and then they closed. It was almost over.

As the blackness dragged me under, I tried to force my lips to move, but speech failed me. I hoped that my eyes would convey those three, beautiful words that I could never say.

_I love you, _I thought, and with every ounce of my being, I knew it was true.

I would always love him.

Forever.

**Aw. I'm growing far too attached to Becca - I actually feel really mean right now :(**

**Hope you liked it!**


	22. Forever

**LAST CHAPTER :( So this is it, guys. I'm really hating updating this. Oh, the sorrow.**

**Well - here it is. I hope you enjoy. **

* * *

><p><em>"If man hasn't discovered something that he will die for,<em>_  
>he isn't fit to live."<em>

* * *

><p>The blackness did not have me for long.<p>

Every so often I could make out clipped fragments of sound, low, strained voices, conversing quietly with one another. Once or twice I heard a snarl, but they were quickly cut off. At times I was more conscious than at others. I could've sworn that once my eyelids had fluttered for a brief, concise moment. All speaking had stopped for a few seconds afterward.

I wondered whether I was dead or not.

This could not be heaven, I was sure of it. I was in too much agony for that. Maybe I was in hell – probably, with the way I'd behaved in my lifetime. But as my hearing became more precise, and my heartbeat grew steadily stronger, I became aware of the fact that maybe – just _maybe _– I was alive.

"Yes . . . tonight." A rough voice murmured. David's voice. "We'll leave it up to her. I'm sure she'll want a while to regain her strength."

They were talking about _me?_

"Paul!" someone snapped. "Don't mess around with that. There's hardly any left."

Paul was here?

"Aye aye, sir." Said Paul sarcastically.

" . . . David?" I murmured through my parched lips.

There was a heartbeat's silence.

"Becca? Can you hear me?"

There was pressure on my hand.

"David," I sighed, content with the fact that if he was really here, then I must be alive.

"Becca, I'm here, you're okay. You'll be fine."

My lids fluttered open to a sight I thought I'd never see again. His eyes – his beautiful eyes – were hovering anxiously above me, like slowly melting glaciers, perfect and blue.

"So," I croaked, my voice horribly rough, "I guess this means I'm alive."

He laughed gently. "Yes, you are. Thankfully."

"How?"

A strange expression crossed his face. "We'll talk about that . . . later."

I sighed and twisted slightly, so that I could look him full in the face. His eyes were still troubled.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Well, considering that I was just impaled by a wooden stick, I think it's safe to say that I've been better."

His eyes narrowed at the mention of my death. _Near _death, I reminded myself.

"I should be dead," I whispered, closing my eyes for a fraction of a second. "And I should definitely_ not_ be here. It went right through my heart. I shouldn't have survived."

"But you did," grinned Marko, looming into view.

"_How?_"

"Oh, I think you know." he replied.

"_This," _said Paul, sitting on the edge of the couch. "The secret of our immortality."

I froze as I caught sight of a plain green wine bottle, dark liquid sloshing inside as he shook it.

"Tell me . . ." I said, my voice quiet and tense, "that that is not what I think it is."

Paul frowned. "Why d'you want me to tell you that?"

"Idiot," David hissed, and turned to me. "Becca, we know you never wanted to do this. But after careful consideration, we decided it was best to –"

"In other words, he saw you dying and poured it in your mouth," said Marko.

"Why would you _do_ that?" I asked, my voice strangled. "You know I would rather die!"

David flinched.

"I don't want to be a vampire! Don't make me be one. Please. Take it back!"

"Too late," said Paul cheerfully, clearly not bothered at all.

"Would you let _him _die?" asked a low voice, as Dwayne stepped out of the shadows. "If it was the other way around? You'd just let him go?"

I couldn't respond to that. Dwayne knew that I would have no answer.

"That's different," I said lamely, "he doesn't mind being what you are. I want to stay human."

"You won't be saying that in a month or two," interjected Paul.

"Paul," David snapped, "is it really that hard to keep your mouth shut for a moment or two?"

"Well," said Paul, "I'm sure it wouldn't be _that _hard . . . if there was money involved. How much would you pay me to stay quiet?"

There was a _thump, _and Paul was sprawled on the floor, still grinning like an idiot.

"Way to go, buddy," muttered Marko, shaking his head.

"Please, David. There must be a way!" I begged.

"It's too late. I couldn't let you die. And I would say I'm sorry . . . but the truth is, I'm not. I can't live without you, Becca. It almost killed me trying."

I stared into his eyes, and all my anger began to evaporate. How could I stay mad at him when he spoke to me like that?

"Fine," I said. "But you're going to have to help me find a way around your . . . _diet. _Deal?"

"Deal,"

"Wait," interjected Paul, "I have a better idea. How about tonight, when we go out hunting this Jay guy, you can kill him instead of David. Sound cool to you?"

My muscles froze. "What? We can't kill him! _I'm _not going to kill him, and neither are you!"

"Becca, you can't seriously want him alive, after what he's put you through." reasoned David. "He almost killed you."

"He's not going to die, David. Not as long as I'm around."

"Becca –"

"Shhh!" I cut him off. "I'll go to him tonight. I'm not going to kill him, so don't get your hopes up, but I'll talk to him. Get him to leave Santa Carla. Okay?"

"No, it's not okay."

"David, please. For me. Just _once _can you let me have it my way?"

He glared at me. "Fine. But if I ever come across him again, then I'll kill him. He had better go far, far away. For his own good."

I narrowed my eyes. "Promise?"

"Promise."

* * *

><p>My knuckles rapped sharply against Jay's apartment door. I heard shuffling inside, and my eyes narrowed. A minute later the door swung open, but no one was there.<p>

I frowned, about to call out, when I was hit in the face with a clear jet of liquid. It made my face itch slightly.

I gritted my teeth in anger. So, he wanted to play games, did he? Well I'd play along. "You should know holy water doesn't work on half-vampires, Jay. Did you really expect them to _knock _when they finally came for you? Honestly. I would have been better prepared."

"_Becky?" _ Jay peered around the door in astonishment. "You're alive!"

I smirked. "No thanks to you. It's a good thing I'm compassionate – I just saved your life."

He frowned. "What?"

"Oh, yeah, I really did. They were coming for you, see. You should have heard all the things David had planned for you . . ." I laughed. "You should never, _never _mess with a vampire, Jay. Especially David. When you almost killed me . . . well, that was the final straw."

I saw his face pale in the darkness. "So _you've _come here to do it for him?"

"No, no . . . I prefer my victims to live in fear, rather than take the easy way out," I lied. "He'll be watching out for you, you know. You make a move, and he'll know about it. We all will. And we won't hesitate to kill you then."

"I don't know you," he said, so quietly I could barely hear it.

"No? Good for you. But remember –" I leaned in to whisper in his ear "– you can't hide from us. If you run, we'll know where to follow. If you hide, we'll know where to find you. This isn't a game of hide and seek, Jay. It's a game of life and death. The only way to win is not to play."

"What do I have to do?"

"Stay away. _Far _away. I don't know where – out of the country is probably best." My cool mask slipped for a moment. "I'm sorry. I really am. But it's your fault, Jay. I really don't want you to die. This is the only way."

"But you don't want to be a vampire, do you Becky? You wouldn't kill someone. Not innocent people. I know you better than that."

"I thought you didn't know me at all?"

He shook his head. "I was wrong. I do know you. You don't want this. The Becky_ I_ know wouldn't want this."

"I'm sorry, Jay. I love him. More than anything in the world, and I can't live without him. You saw what happened to me when I tried."

"If you really mean that, then I guess I can't change your mind. But he's a killer, Becky. A cold-blooded killer. He would slaughter millions to get what he wants."

I smiled wryly. "Wouldn't we all?"

"_You_ wouldn't."

The smile slipped. "Sorry, Jay. I have to do this. I love him. I love you, too."

"But not enough to keep you with me," he whispered.

"No," I agreed, "not that much."

"I love you too, you know."

"I know you do."

I kissed his cheek. "Run, Jay. Run far away."

"I will," he promised, and I could see in his eyes that he was trying to hold on to me, to stop me from slipping away.

But he was fighting a battle that he'd already lost.

* * *

><p>"Did you kill him?" asked Paul eagerly.<p>

"No! I haven't even sat down yet and you're already pestering me. Go away, Paul."

"Yeah, Paul. Go away." Snickered Marko.

"Marko?" said David. "Shut up."

Dwayne met my gaze and we both shook our heads at their bickering. My family . . . I swelled with pride at the thought. _My _family. They were idiots, sure. But I loved them so much it hurt.

"What's that look for?" asked David when he saw the glowing expression on my face.

"I love you," I said, my voice thickened with tears of happiness.

He laughed. "Guess what? I love you too."

My face split into a beam of pure joy as he wrapped his arms around me, leading me into a future that was so bright it was impossible to reject. Forever is a long time, I thought.

And this could possibly be the best forever anyone had ever had.

**There! How was it? **

**And thank you all for reading this fic, it really means a lot to me. And for those of you who have reviewed thank you thank you and thank you again! I love you all :)**

**(P.S may be doing a request for a Marko/OC fic in the near future. Come check it out when it's up!)**


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